The Fall: A Story of Obsession
by Calamity in Motion
Summary: Something about him called to her, be it his mind, his voice, or his impossibly dark eyes, he was raw and uncompromising and when he spoke, though the words were harsh and wrong, he made SENSE. That, Harley knew, was the problem. To HER, he made sense.
1. A Pleasant Surprise

I have been told, on more than one occasion, that those who seek to join the psychiatric profession, do so because they themselves are quite disturbed.

When I first began this job, I didn't believe it. Sure I'd lived through some tough situations, felt neglected, and done things some might call wicked, but who _hasn't_? It is my professional opinion that every person on this planet is sick is some fashion.

And I can say that, I'm a doctor.

I never get tired of that joke. Really, it makes me smile. Sometimes I think the world has forgotten how to laugh, but I can't prescribe a sense of humor. My hope is that one day someone or something will come along and remind us all that a good joke can brighten up the darkest day.

I don't really count on it though.

"Roll call, new charts today, boys and girls. Who's excited?" Joan Leland, monotoned from the front of the employee's lounge. Since our head nurse, Cathleen Filligiri had called in _dead_ a week ago, (the old bat had had a misunderstanding between her left lung and a 6 inch blade) Leland had jumped to take on the responsibility in an attempt to gain notice. After Dr. Crane had flipped his pretty head and ended up a patient, then helped in the release of all his new friends, the budget had been pretty tight. Arkham had been called unfit to perform its service. How could we be expected to care for our patients when our doctors couldn't be trusted? Now that we were starting to gain back a little of our former reputation, everyone was eyeing the big office and the P word was on everyone's lips. Not to mention the fact that everyone with a checkbook to burn was sending in donations to up security for our newest and most famous member. With one high-profile patient, we had gone from the newest dirty slang word on the street, to loved and respected again.

Funny how the herd turned so quickly.

"…Alyce, you've got Zsasz now." Joan frowned at her charts and flipped to the next page. Meanwhile I was doing my best not to cause a scene.

Alyce Sinner had **my** patient. Who had given her the right to treat my patients? What was going on here?

"That's odd, I thought…"but Joan trailed off to stare at whatever sheet she'd been looking for. Her angry eyes snapped to me then back to the chart, then again and she cleared her throat. Anyone else paying attention saw her pull back on the plastic smile she used to seem professional and friendly.

"Well, let's get to it everyone. Let's all have a good day today."

There was a murmured chorus of "yeah" and "sures" and then the thin, severe woman was marching over to me, clasping her charts to her chest and smiling tightly.

"Harleen, do you mind coming with me? There seems to be a mistake with the assignments this week."

For a moment, I couldn't respond, too focused on the thin little lines around her eyes and mouth that said she'd been forcing that friendly face for a long time. She looked tired, but I wouldn't say that to her face.

"Why was Dr. Sinner given my case?" I asked, standing to follow her out into the hallway, "I realize I'm no veteran here at Arkham, but I've been making _progress_ with Victor, if you take him now all of that might be stripped away. He _trusts_ me, Dr, Leland."

Joan stopped outside the last office in the hallway, that of our director, and tilted her head at me.

"You're on a first name basis with him?" Somehow she made the remark sound snotty and disapproving. I felt and squashed the need to defend myself to the tiny bitch though, seeing as we were right outside the boss's office.

Turning on her obnoxious, little white clacky heels, Joan opened the door and marched right up to Jeremiah Arkham's desk. The poor man jumped when she slapped down her chart and pointed at something printed on it.

"There's been a mistake." She said shortly.

Arkham's eyes lifted to me as I quietly followed her in and closed the door. I probably looked confused because he offered a smile and motioned for me to take a seat. Arkham had inherited the asylum when his father had died 3 years ago, but it didn't mean anyone really trusted him with the institution. He was too young, if you could call the ass end of 30 young, and too impulsive. It was, however why we had gotten along so well. We were both doubted for our age and appearance. On good days, I _liked _Jeremiah.

"Good morning, Dr. Leland, Dr. Quinzel."

I gave my warmest smile, and didn't I feel like a hypocrite because it was just as fake as Joan's.

"Jeremiah." I replied in greeting. Joan pursed her lips at my lack of formality, but didn't remark.

"What seems to be the problem?" the director asked, steepling his fingers.

"Did you read the name there?" Joan asked, the irritation thick in her nasally voice, "I realize she's done good work since starting here, really dear, you have," she touched my shoulder and I resisted smacking it away, "But you can't expect her to handle _Him_. A more qualified doctor should-"

"You're right, Dr." Arkham interrupted, turning to smile at me, "She has proven herself to be quite capable. First with her work on Mortimer Drake, then she showed us her fearlessness with Aaron Helzinger…"

"He has the brain capacity of a walnut, Sir I hardly think-"

"And _now_" Arkham interrupted Joan smoothly, "She has gained the cooperation of known serial killer Victor Zsasz. I must admit I am curious to see what she will do with this new challenge."

"Challenge?" I asked, crossing my legs at the knee and smiling encouragingly. I can't say I wasn't interested in whoever he'd assigned me to.

"He's had 5 separate doctors since his incarceration, sir, do you really think _Harleen_ is up for this?"

_Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, bitch_. The way she said my name made me want to reach over and rip off her faux friendly face, but I gripped the arms of my chair with white knuckles instead. There was no reason Arkham should see me in anything but a professional light.

"Why don't we let Dr. Quinzel decide, hmm?" With a charming smile, he turned the clipboard around and pushed it toward me so I could read the form.

I don't know what I expected, but it hadn't been _this_. Not in a million years would I ever…was this a joke? A prank on the new girl, though technically I'd handed off the lovely mantel to Alyce. Whatever the case, Joan had to be right, this was a mistake.

"You're serious?" I asked softly, fighting to mask the building excitement that swelled in my chest. Oh my god, this was the case of a lifetime!

"As a heart attack." Arkham grinned, "It has been decided that you, Dr. Quinzel will treat Alias: The Joker."

My mind spun and the dam broke on my emotions, making me laugh out loud. This was it, the case that would make me the respected psychiatrist I dreamed of being. If I could get the Joker to admit even _one_ tiny scrap of his past, my career would be legitimized. Even if I couldn't cure him, learning anything about the most interesting man in Gotham would mean notoriety and possibly _fame_. Maybe I'd even write a book!

"Thank you, Jeremiah!" I smiled, for real this time and threw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you!"

I heard the door clatter shut and pulled back to see that Joan had left the room, then shrugged it off. Let her be jealous and angry, I still got the prize. In fact, seeing as they were placing the Joker in my care, it looked like_ I_ was the closest to that shiny new promotion now.

"Well, Harley," Arkham laughed, dropping professionalism now that Leland had disappeared. "Do you have any questions?"

"Only one." I smiled, gazing down at the harsh black and white mug shot that served as the Joker's picture. In the image, he still wore his makeup. My red-nailed finger traced the line of his wide smile before I looked back up at my boss.

"How soon can I meet him?"

* * *

**Hello again, kiddies. I thought I was done, but he just keeps dragging me back, kicking and screaming. This time however, it is with a cannon-_like_ Harley in our wake.**

**I've played with a Nolan Harley already and had a blast, but now I want to take another shot at a version closer to her original appearance in the cartoon.**

**Don't worry though, for those who read my work, I plan to be just as violent and demented as I was with Kiddie!Harls, but be aware, This is no two-bit thug who caught a lucky…ish break. I also plan to make her a bit more aggressive than my last Harley. There's just this voice telling me it would be a laugh to have HER seduce HIM…sort of…in a way….You'll see what I mean…**

**I didn't like the feel of my original attempt at a Nolanized Dr. Quinn, so here is my second go.**

**THIS STORY may not be very long, I haven't really decided. What I _do_ know, is that I have a direction and a character I'm having fun tweaking. I want to focus on the main points in Harley's budding relationship with the Joker that lead to her falling for him and breaking him out of Arkham, and a bit of what happened after. It's a story about losing your mind, confusion and unexplainable attraction.**

**Those of you who know me might have guessed that I have no patience to speak of, so don't worry, I will do my best to get to the juicy bits with The Quickness, since they are what I'm most interested in.**

**I hope you enjoy this as much as I will.**

**-Calamity**


	2. Calm before the Storm

"Are you ready?" Arkham asked as I stood outside the small examination room and tried to remember how to breathe. I'd drunk down every second of his previous recorded sessions, noted his tricks, and committed them to memory.

He was quick, this one, and remarkably observant. He'd managed to reduce his last doctor to tears in little over 10 minutes, and broke down the rest. The Joker seemed like a predator in the way he searched for your weakness and attacked it. I had to watch myself inside, because when he didn't find a weakness, he simply attacked physically. He'd put Bernard Perce in the hospital for asking why he'd chosen a clown as his alter ego.

Being_ ready_ was impossible. The Joker was dangerous and unpredictable and I wouldn't have been ready if I'd taken years to study his files rather than a week.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I replied to the ever-scowling Dr. Arkham. He sighed and reached out to grip my shoulder tightly. It was meant as reassurance, I'm sure, but the grave look in his eyes and thin line of his mouth spoke of anything but faith that I could do this. He didn't think I was capable and frankly it pissed me off.

I nodded to him, and opened the door, drawing a slow, deep breath and holding it as the door closed behind me.

I don't know what I had been expecting, something flashy and in your face wild. I'd pictured violent struggling against his restraints, foaming at the mouth, laughter that filled the room to bursting.

Not silence. Not utter calm.

The breath I had held expelled slowly as I crossed the room and got my first in person look at the Joker. He wore the same regulation orange jumpsuit as all the other patients, the same coded number was tacked to his chest like a dog tag. He didn't even have makeup on. By all accounts he could have been any of the other hundred inmates in this institute, scars or not.

Then his eyes lifted to mine, so dark they could have been black, and burning with something vicious and powerful, and I knew. He was _nothing_ like the others. Even now, sitting still and silent, there was a coiled power about him, an energy that hummed just beneath the skin. Oddly, he reminded me of the ocean. On the surface it was calm, nearly placid, but beneath was the chaos of currents and sea life, ever-moving. Watching him, I knew that the calm was a lie, and a storm could break at any second.

No. He was nothing like the others.

"Hello," I started, having to clear my throat to gain volume. He made me nervous and he wasn't even moving, "My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I will be handling your case from now on."

He sat back in his chair, though the chains connecting his wrists to his ankles only allowed so much space, so his posture was somewhat slouched. I waited for a reply, hell even a smile, but the Joker's face was carefully blank. His fingers tapped out a speedy rhythm just under the table, but it was the only movement he made. Idly, I wondered if he could_ be_ completely still.

"What should I call you then? Since I'll be doing all the talking, I should at least know your name."

Still there was silence and his gaze did not wander from my face, instead, his tongue flicked out to run across the scar tissue at the corner of his mouth then disappeared as if it had never existed. With a sigh, I shrugged.

"Let's see then…_The Joker_ sounds so formal, this isn't the place for formal," I titled my head as if in thought, looking around the room but keeping him in my peripheral vision, "But _Joker_ just doesn't have that ring to it. **The** Joker is your title, without the article it's a rather silly name. No one would ever take you_ seriously_."

Not a twitch, nor irregular breath. He just stared at me. I'd thought that would at least get a tiny reaction. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to share, or was hoping I'd give up. It wouldn't surprise me if he was just tired of talking to all the doctors that had been sent to him. I wouldn't quit, though, _couldn't_ quit so easily. If he wanted to discourage me, he'd have to do much better than this.

"All right," I smiled, folding my hands and resting my chin on them to watch him, "Don't you even have an alias to give me, something like John or Jack?" No reply. "Guess those are too generic, huh? You're not a generic kinda guy. I get that."

He shifted and I went still, watching him closely as if he might speak, but it never came. Instead, he settled into a new comfortable position, and went still again. For a long moment, I was trapped in those dark, dark eyes. They should have been brown, I knew that, without the makeup it was obvious, but they weren't. Be it insanity or just his intimidating presence, those eyes were almost black. Deep and wild and _black_.

I cleared my throat when I realized I'd been starring, knowing he'd seen me, and wondered if he was surprised that it wasn't at his scars. The truth was they weren't as pronounced now that he didn't wear his war paint. I hardly noticed them at all.

And with that, came a random thought.

"Mr. J." I said, trying it out. It had a ring I couldn't resist. And the way I pronounced it, _Mistah J, _part of me hoped it would annoy him into giving me a name of his own choosing. Until then, he would suffer through this one. "I like it."

I smiled brightly, "So, whadoya think?" My voice had taken on an airy, childish quality to emphasize my teasing. "_Mr. J_? Does it work for you?"

Silence.

"Well, since you aren't arguing, I'll just take that as a yes."

Feeling a bit excited, for no reason I could fathom, I stood up and moved around the table to sit back against the edge beside him. He followed me with his eyes, but still refused to speak.

"By the way," I smiled to myself, "This doesn't discourage me…you not responding. It actually makes things a bit more interesting." I winked at him, "I like a challenge."

I shouldn't have gotten so close. I shouldn't have been so cocky. Yet here I was trying to play games with the man who'd already sent two of his doctors into sabbatical with words alone.

I was slammed down against the metal table with the psychopath's hands around my throat.

I didn't scream, didn't even struggle, which struck me as weird because that was exactly the kind of thing one should do in this situation. A smart, _normal_ person would fight back, but I was just too distracted by his voice when he finally spoke.

"I_ looove_ a challenge." He grinned, and the expression went literally from ear to ear. His voice was lyrical, and far too cheery for what he was currently doing "Like the ones at the _carn-_ival."

My hands went up to wrap around his wrists, catching on the chain linking his handcuffs, but I didn't really pull away. For whatever reason, I was frozen, and not entirely in fear.

"_I_ always liked the one with the duc**ks." **He continued, tightening his grip until I choked loudly. The Joker had since climbed up onto the table with me, straddling my waist and holding me still with his knees. "You know the ones you had to throw the rings over? Had to get them _juuuuust_ righ**t **too**. **Right around their _skinny. Little. Necks." _With each word his grip tightened and my eyes went wide and bulgy in my skull.

My head was starting to hurt and my lungs were aching. The fingers I'd wrapped around his wrists tightened until they went numb, but I remained still. He liked people _reacting_ to him, with the scars and the costume and name. He was _all about _big reactions, so I refused to give him one. At the very least he might get bored and let go.

I hoped.

"Come on Doc, now's not the time to go **quiet**," his eyes glinted maliciously and he leaned forward, dipping down to search my eyes. "You were so _talk_-ative earlier. I was hoping for a li**ttle** con-ver_-sation_."

My eyes narrowed when he bounced my head off the desk and shoved me down again. It felt like he was crushing my throat, and the world had grown fuzzy around the edges. What if he didn't let go? What if he really killed me?

_Fuck that, Harls! Don't just sit here!_

And with that my brain fired back up and kicked my preservation instinct back into play. I tried to think back to my days of self-defense classes (a must for every young Gotham woman) but it all seemed distant and fading quickly. So, gritting my teeth, I shot my hand up and pushed against his face. It was the closest thing to me. My palm scrapped against the rough skin of his scars and the clown let out a high, maniacal laugh that sent shards of ice shooting down my spine.

His teeth closed around the side of my hand and he bit down hard until I coughed again in an attempt to cry out. On instinct, my other hand closed into a fist and swung to clip him on the jaw. His head snapped to the side, tearing my hand from between his teeth.

His grip loosened with the impact and I used that moment to roll sideways and throw him onto the floor. I flipped onto my belly, wincing each time I tried to breathe through my bruised throat, and grabbed the opposite edge, pulling myself across. He was still laughing behind me, and I made a strangled sound when his hands closed around my leg and dragged me back.

With them cuffed the way they were, he couldn't grab my other leg, so I took advantage and kicked him, right in the gut with my red, satin pumps. The Joker wheezed, and stumbled back a step, but came back giggling and shaking his head.

"Look at _you_." He grinned, flipping me over and getting between my legs so I couldn't kick him again. When I tried to push him, he brought both fists against the side of my head and my body went limp. He gathered both my hands and leaned closer to pin them against my chest. The movement bunched my already tight business skirt up my thighs and the closer he got, the farther it went.

My eyes had just got wide in real terror when the far door came crashing open and guards poured in to rip him off of me. Arkham was among them, looking flustered and panicked. He rushed to help me up and smooth down my skirt before it was noticed, then he was holding my face and starring at me.

"Are you alright?" he demanded, but I slapped away his hands and pushed my way into the cluster of guards. I couldn't think beyond the _clown_.

The Joker was subdued and when he saw me, his brows rose expectantly. The POs had him by the arms, holding him in place. I knew it wasn't professional, and that it could very well get me into a lot of trouble, even suspended, but I didn't care. He'd made me feel helpless and small and so damned inadequate that I couldn't think straight.

So I hit him.

The guards jumped back with their prisoner too late to stop me, so my fist cracked across his jaw and turned his head for the second time that day. When the psychopath turned back to look at me, however, I realized I had just split his lip. His eyes were strangely bright for their blackness and seemed to glint maliciously when he grinned ear to ear and let out a howl of laughter that filled the room and seeped into my very bones.

"Next time, you're _going_ to talk to me." My voice was harsh and ragged from the pain it caused to talk, but I did my best.

This only made him laugh harder, nearly doubling over as they dragged him from the room. The sounds of his cackle echoed back to us from the hallway. It was almost as frightening as _he_ was.

"Shit." I breathed, shaking my now throbbing hand and pulling my hair from its ruined bun. I had to fight the urge to burst into tears. I'd blown it. Damnit, I'd blown it and…why was I thinking about this now?

"Well," Aaron Cash, our head of security, scratched his head with a smirk, "_I'm_ impressed." He was referring to my hitting the Joker, which granted I was just a tiny bit proud of, but judging by the other faces in the room, we were the only ones amused. With that, the head PO left the room to help his boys lock the Joker back up

"Harley, answer me, are you ok?" Arkham looked pale as a sheet and it was then I realized they must have been watching the whole thing from his office. Of course they would have, each of these rooms was wired with cameras. Maybe he'd focus on the good rather than my complete rookie mistake. It had been stupid for me to get so close to such a dangerous man, and I'd gotten only what I deserved. Though I wished I hadn't deserved the choking. I had seen his calm façade as promise that he wouldn't move. He'd tricked me and I'd fallen for it like an idiot. Now it hurt to swallow.

"Harley?"

"I'm fine." I said weakly, wincing with the pain of speech. "Just a little shaken." Damnit, my hand was bleeding.

When he didn't look convinced, I gave him my best smile, dropping the hand from my throat. "Really, Jeremiah, I'm _fine_."

The director's eyes went to my throat and widened just a little more, so I knew it was defiantly going to bruise. That bastard, I'd have to wear turtlenecks for a week! I was not a turtleneck kinda gal.

"Get her to medical," Arkham instructed one of the guards, Lyle Bolton, sharply. If I didn't know the director so well, I'd say he was concerned, but the only thing going through his head right then was "**_Lawsuit_**."

So, feeling angry and a bit humiliated, I followed Bolton from the room and down the hall. He walked like a body guard now, checking that I was there from time to time, and checking corners as if we were trying to sneak through the asylum.

Not that Bolton was a gentleman either, I knew for a fact that he'd helped Johnathan Crane in his little experiments, acting as muscle or restraint for extra cash. He only played hero now because he'd wanted to take me to diner since I'd started here. I however couldn't be bothered with overgrown idiots and had yet to accept.

"Doesn't look like he got ya too bad, Harley." Bolten grumbled when we'd reached medical and the nurse began fussing over me. I hated being the center of such humiliating attention and it only served to irritate me more.

Hell, it was just one of those days.

"It was my fault." I grumbled, holding the baggie of ice to my throat. Arkham's office was a regular party now, packed with guards who'd witnessed the tape, Arkham himself, and Joan Leland. The last of which kept shooting me snotty little grins.

"I got to excited, I thought I could get to him, and I did, but I should have never gotten that close."

Arkham ran fingers through his dark hair and sighed, his cold grey eyes flitted about the room to each individual as they agreed. He would take me off the case now, I knew it. My career had been handed over on a diamond-plated platter, and I'd just thrown it away.

"Yes, well, that was very foolish, Dr. Quinzel." He sounded like my father scolding me this way, "I expected more from you."

I closed my eyes and drew a slow, painful breath. Here it was.

"However, _whatever_ you've done, it worked."

My eyes snapped back open and I looked up at him, astonished.

"He's made it clear that he will talk to no other doctor but you. He_ likes _you." Arkham laughed incredulously, "I'm giving you one more chance, doctor. Don't screw it up."

"But…"I didn't know what to think, "I thought-"

"He asked for you." Arkham said, "Specifically. Normally after an incident such as this, I would refuse, for your safety, but he's never done this, and frankly, " he sighed, massaging his temple, "I've run out of options. So congratulations, Dr. Quinzel, you get to keep your patient."

I nodded vigorously, already imagining what the next session would hold. The excitement practically buzzed off my skin. Seeing this, Arkham held up a warning finger.

"However, anymore incidents like this and you will be off the case for _good_, do you understand? You do not touch him, do not get close to him. You remain in your seat and should you for any reason feel uncomfortable, you _will_ leave immediately."

I smiled, feeling a laugh bubbling up, then winced when it hurt to do so. Arkham's slate grey eyes skipped between the angry bruises around my throat to my face and he scowled.

"Let that be a reminder that he is dangerous, Harleen. Do not underestimate him."

I hardly heard him though, too focused on our next session. How would I start it, would he really talk to me next time? What would he say? A thousand questions swirled through me and yet none of them were negative as they should have been. I _should_ have been frightened, intimidated at the least, and yet all I wanted was for this day to end so that I could finally sit down and _talk_ with **The** one and only **Joker**.

* * *

**I know I know, He ATTACKED her? By why? It's Harley! Well, this was inspired by a comic I read years ago about their first meeting in which he did just this. Sat silent, and waited for her to get close before trying to strangle her to death.**

**Now in the comic he stopped because she confused him with a "look of love" which, sorry , but I find just a wee bit far-fetched. So I changed it up just a bit there.**

**Here's the thing, Harley was just another doctor. She was one in a possibly endless string of obnoxious therapists to the Joker, and I wanted that to be clear. Then she showed potential, she showed courage and fought back and he thought, perhaps she _is_ interesting. **

**The Joker didn't pick Harley at random, he saw that she was a little different. She was young and _impressionable_ and just the right touch of naïve and he used that. **

**Anyway, leave me some feedback if you can. I'm curious to know what you thought of their first encounter.**


	3. The Thing About Crazy is

"That's disgusting." Pamela Isley held my hand up for inspection with a distasteful grimace. "I mean, he _bit_ you. Like a _dog_."

I pulled the hand away, rolling my eyes, and rewrapped it in the bandage.

"You should get that checked." She said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her long slender legs at the knee, "You know, for rabies? Or Hepatitis. What if you gave you some sort of disease Harls? You don't know where he's been!"

"I don't think I have to worry about it, Pammy." I sighed, "I'm not even sure he likes sex anyway."

To that, Pam frowned, "He's a _guy_. All guys like sex. It's the universal truth we were all raised with."

"Ok, let me rephrase. It's not his biggest _motivation_. I'm not saying he doesn't have it, just that…well, it's not that important to him."

Pam's brows rose slightly and she scoffed, "Well, guess you're right. He _is_ different."

I decided not to comment and instead took a sip of my coffee. It was nice to step out of Arkham for the day. Not that I had been too keen on the idea at first, but Jeremiah had insisted, so here I was, lounging in a café with my best friend Pam.

"You're orders." Came a slightly accented voice from my right. I turned to find our waiter, young and handsome for someone that screamed _jailbait_. He set down my plate first and turned his full attention on Pammy, smiling his best charming smile and set it down. "And yours." He clarified.

I fought back the giggle bubbling up in my throat and instead watched as Pam's cheeks went from creamy pale to bright red and she muttered a soft thank you. The kid dipped his head to catch her eyes again and winked.

"Any time." Then he turned and sauntered off into the kitchen to grab his other orders. I was fairly certain our food had been served early.

I couldn't help it, now I laughed, unable to stop even when Pam swatted me with her menu.

"He has to know that I'm twice his age." She said, stabbing a fork into her salad and pushing it around absently. "I mean look at me."

"Exactly." I smiled, "I don't think he cares how old you are, Red. Take it as a compliment, geez."

She scowled down at her salad and refused to comment, but that was the problem with Pam. She was brilliant, successful, and dressed like a nerdy tomboy. By all accounts she should repel men, and yet all the effort she put into being unnoticed was drown by her natural beauty. I wished I looked half as good as Pam on her _worst_ days. Sometimes I wondered if she even _liked_ men. She was a feminist and nothing interested her more than her work with plants, but even so you'd think she'd try at least_ one_ date.

"So when's your next session with the freak?" Pam asked to change the subject. I frowned at her and took a quick bite of my own chicken salad.

"I wish you wouldn't call him that."

She shrugged, "Psycho then? Homicidal maniac?"

"_The Joker _and I won't see each other again until next week."

"You make it sound like a date." Pam said, getting a certain look in her leafy green eyes that made me instantly defensive.

"Well I'm_ excited_, Pam. This is the biggest case in Arkham and they've given it to _me_. Do you realize what this could mean?" my voice was slowly raising with my enthusiasm, "This could make my career!"

Pam sighed, nodding once that she understood, "I realize that Harls, I do, and I'm proud of you. Those idiotic men at the asylum should have recognized your talent the day you walked in, but…" she reached across the table to take my hand, "You have to promise me you'll be careful."

I scoffed, "The man's going to be strapped down with every spare harness in the building, Pam, he's not going to get another chance to hurt me."

She only shook her head, "I don't mean that. Sometimes…"she took a deep breath, glancing up at me threw a curtain of her red hair, "Sometimes when you get invested in something you tend to…well it's good I'm sure, but-"

"I tend to _what_?" I asked in a clipped tone. She sat back and threw up her hands.

"You get a little obsessed. Alright? You invest everything you have into what you're doing, and I love that. You're passionate about your work, that's good, but you might want to rein it in with this one."

"Rein what in?" I asked "I've barely had one session with the guy."

"And you've already got that look in your eye." She said, sipping at her tea and watching me closely. "I think you're already interested. All that I'm asking is that you watch yourself, Harls. He's smart and interesting or whatever, but he's still insane. He's dangerous. I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't." I assured her, but Pam gave me a grave look and motioned toward my throat.

"You already have."

"I told you," I said briskly, digging out my wallet and putting down my part of the bill. "It won't happen again. He'll be restrained at all times and I'll be monitored by half the damn asylum."

She didn't look convinced, but I was in no mood to change her mind. She was stubborn and I was suddenly _very_ tired.

"We're still on for girl's night this weekend right?" Pam asked meekly. She knew she'd upset me. I nodded once, pulling on my jacket. "Good, Vin Diesel?"

To that I wrinkled my nose, "He's big and his voice is…_real_ nice, but you know me. I'm more into the slender guys. Vin Diesel looks like he'd bench-press me then snap me in half."

Pam laughed, shaking her head, "We'll figure it out then. Love ya, Harls."

"Love ya, Red." I smiled.

On my way out I noticed the waiter eyeing her and smirked. When he caught me looking, I winked and nodded toward Pam with a smile as if to say 'you're welcome to try'. He grinned back and went to cross the café and make his move. Meanwhile, my thoughts returned, as they usually did to my case.

Perhaps Red was right. Sometimes I did get a little obsessed, but honestly. Who could blame me this time?

**xXx**

I chose not to hide my bruises when it finally came time for our next session. He knew they were there, and I didn't want him to think they made me self-conscious. There was no real point in hiding them unless I_ wanted_ him to pick on me for it. So, just before I went inside after yet _another_ safety briefing with Arkham, I clipped on a thin silver necklace that hung just below the finger-marks and drew attention to them. I wanted him to know he hadn't scared me.

As the door opened however and I saw him waiting patiently in his chair, I paused. Something cold slithered down into my gut and remained there as I click-clack across the room and took my seat in front of him.

"Good Morning, Mr. J." I said slowly. His eyes went instantly to the bruises, then the necklace, and returned to my face with wicked little smirk. It melted into a full-blown smile when our eyes met.

"Good morning…what was it again? _Har-ley_ **Quinn**, right? I _like_ it."

Of course he would see that. Not that I hadn't heard it before, but never from a clown-impersonating madman.

"Close," I smiled, "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, actually."

He titled his head. "_You_ should think about changing it. The other has a _real_ ring."

"I'm not surprised you think that."

He let his smile fall just a little, "Don't _you_?"

"It's catchy." I agreed, "but my mother gave me my name." I glanced up at him, smoothing a hand down my white coat sleeve, "Just like I'm sure your mother gave you an interesting name."

His smile was slight and knowing as he stared at me, but he didn't reply. After a pause I sighed.

"Fine, _Mr. J_ it remains. You can't blame me for trying though."

"_Sure_ I can." He replied smoothly, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the table.

_Alright then, Harls, change the subject._

"I'm curious," I said, leaning forward just slightly. He nodded enthusiastically leaning forward too.

"Dangerous, but go on."

"Why did you insist that I keep your case? I mean, you didn't seem to like me very much."

At that he laughed. "Just seemed like a good idea at the time."

He was lying. He knew exactly why he done it, but apparently he wasn't going to tell me, so I shrugged.

"Fair enough."

The Joker tapped out a quick beat on the table-top, his attention going back to my throat and he made faux-apologetic face.

"Sorry about the uh…" he wiggled his fingers to indicate my throat, "your _neck_."

"Yes," I sighed, idly brushing the angry purple bruises with my fingertips, "It was not the ideal way to begin our sessions."

"I was only _playing_." He said in a mock-serious tone. I shook my head.

"You were trying to scare me." I corrected. He stared at me a long moment then, those frightfully dark eyes of his seemed to seep into my very skin, like he was holding my lungs in his fist and squeezing tighter with each breath until I had none left. I really needed to avoid looking directly into his eyes, it unnerved me and sooner or later he would catch on, assuming he hadn't already.

"Did it **work**?" He asked then, voice soft, "Did I _scare_ you?"

To this, I raised my chin and arched a brow. "I'm still here aren't I?"

"Yes, but courage and stu-_pidity_ can often be confused."

I laughed at the insult, not taking it to heart, but he had yet to lose his serious demeanor.

"You haven't answered my question doctor."

He was fixed on this, I could tell, so I sighed, looking down at my hands. "Of _course_ you did."

To this he sat back, eyes going off to something on the wall. He looked almost disappointed, or maybe just unimpressed. He'd asked for me specifically, but maybe it had only been curiosity. Maybe he was already getting bored, which I just couldn't have.

"But, I'll tell you something, Mr. J," I leaned forward, and though he didn't look at me, I knew I had his attention, "If you want to scare me away, you'll have to do _much_ better than that."

His eyes snapped back to me from the sides, but his expression remained blank. He watched me a long while and I would have died to know what he was thinking. I shouldn't have said what I did. It was a challenge, I was _provoking_ him, but I just couldn't sit there and let him think I would run away after a little choking? I wasn't going to let him scare me off.

With a new wave of determination I reached down to grab my briefcase and place it on the table, a smile spreading across my lips. He noticed this and suddenly the serious air around him vanished as if it had never existed. I was slightly unnerved by the speed at which he could shift moods, as unpredictable as the weather before technology.

"Look at _you_." He said as I opened my briefcase and his smile was disturbingly wide, "So excited you practically have the ji**tt**ers." He titled his head to look me up and down, "I'm _honored_, really."

"What makes you think it has anything to do with you?" I asked sitting back in my chair with a slight smile.

"Well I might say you'd just gotten yourself a new boyfriend, what with that outfit, but I doubt it." He smirked, "Do you always dress this way, or was it special for little 'ol me?"

Fighting back a grin at his ridiculousness, I motioned toward the file. "If you don't mind, I would like to get on with this session."

"Strait to the point then." The Joker sat back in his chair again, the chains connecting his wrists to the floor jingled softly "Fine by _me_, Do**c**." He hit the C hard, "What do _you_ want to talk about?"

"That's entirely up to you." I replied, grabbing my note pad. His dark eyes drifted down to it then back and he chuckled softly. "What?"

"Oh, _nothing_," he replied in a lyrical tone, "You just look so _serious_, with your little **note**pad and your **glasses**…what's your prescription by the way? Nearsighted, far?"

I arched a brow, setting down the pad. What kind of question was that? "I use them for reading."

"Only reading? Is your _eyesight_ bad?"

"No, I can see just fine, I just-"

"So you don't _need_ them?"

I frowned, "Not for _everything_. I-"

"But you wear them **anyway**." He interrupted again, watching me closely.

"Well I…" but I didn't really have a response. I wore them because they made me seem less like an airhead blond and more like a doctor, and somehow I just knew that's what he was getting at. When I didn't have an answer for him, the Joker sat forward, lacing his hands together in front of him on the table

"So how'd ya get my case, Doc? You don't really look like the _rest_ of them."

"Meaning what?" I asked, feeling a bit insulted.

He shrugged, "You're _young_, for one. Pretty little intern just out of university and already they've thrown you to the biggest shark in the pool."

I made a note that he'd_ referred_ to himself as a predator and rested my chin on my fingers. "Well you've already scared away your other doctors, Maybe they wanted to try a little fresh meat."

"Or they didn't have a real _choice_ and just threw me what they had **left**." He watched me as he made that statement, waiting for my reaction to the insult, but I held it back. Inside I was irritated, he was baiting me, but I wasn't going to bite. He could try harder. I couldn't deny it though, Arkham had told me just that.

"I am just as qualified as any of your other doctors."

"Obviously **they** don't agree." He said, shaking his head.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

Glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers, he leaned forward and motioned emphatically at the door. "Well, none of my _other_ doctors had, uh, _guards_ outside the doors. It's like they think you can't_ han-dle_ this or something."

I glanced at the door, trying not to seem too invested in his word, but a part of me saw red at the thought of being chaperoned like a child. I was perfectly capable of handling this on my own. Arkham should have known that. I didn't need looking after.

The Joker leaned back again, waving his hand with a smile, "Don't sweat it kid, I'm sure they're just tryin' to keep ya safe. Wouldn't want you to get** hurt** again."

The way he said it sounded very much like a threat, and I wasn't going to stand for being bullied. "Well as long as you can keep your hands to yourself, it won't be a problem, will it?"

He gave me a slow, almost predatory smile, tilting his head to the side, "It'll be hard to resist touching _you_ Doc, but I'll sure **try** to be a **good** boy."

I paused, not expecting the flirtation, but recovered quickly. "I guess that's the best I'll get from you, so I'll take it."

He laughed at that then sobered, quick as a light. "But really, Doc, what's a sweet little thing like _you _doing in here with **me**?"

"I want to help you," I replied instantly. The Joker's brows rose in mock-surprise and he titled his head at me.

"_Help_ me?" he asked, "Wait…are you saying there's something **wrong** with me?"

"What do you think?"

"I think sanity is open for interpretation."

"Really?" I asked, resting my elbows on the table, interested, "How so?"

He shrugged, "Well, a man kills some random shmuck and he's _craaaazy, _but if say, a mother kills a burglar in her house it's '_understandable_'." He said, air-quoting with a roll of his eyes.

"It isn't the same, she's protecting her child."

"This is a _burglar_," he said flatly, "He isn't after her children."

"She doesn't _know_ that."

"And that makes it ok?" he asked.

"Murder is never _ok_," I said sharply, then reined it in a little, shaking my head. "But you were talking about _sanity_. People kill for all kinds of different reasons. Sanity is not necessarily a factor."

"True." He agreed with a smile.

I waited for him to elaborate, but nothing came. Had he done that on purpose? He brought up the subject of sanity but veered the conversation away from it almost immediately. Was it a slip, or had he done it for a reason? What reason could there be? Was he just fucking with me?

I was opening my mouth to push the subject when the doors swung open and Arkham himself stepped in. Clearing his throat, he motioned that I should get my things together. Had the time gone that fast? It couldn't have. Why was he ending the session early?

I put my things back into my briefcase and smiled at the Joker who was watching this all with a reserved grin.

"I guess I'll see you on Thursday."

He didn't respond, instead his attention went to Arkham, who cleared his throat again and paled just slightly. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him. He couldn't even _try_ to pretend he wasn't intimidated. How pathetic.

Bolton entered then with two other orderlies to escort the Joker back to his cell while I followed Arkham out into the hall.

"You're debating _murder_ with him?" he asked. Now I knew why the session had been cut short at least.

"He brought it up, I was just letting him talk. It's better than silence."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you tried to focus the conversation on a more productive topic."

Oh, sure, let me jump right on that. Because I have so much control over the guy and what he says. What _I_ said however, was a nice, polite, "Yes sir."

"Good." He nodded, then gave a little frown. "Don't you have other patients to handle, Dr. Quinzel?"

"I'm on it." I replied, resisting the urge to grab his head by the ears and take a big, Tony Robins-sized bite.

Sure, _other_ patients…I could focus on that for a while.

* * *

**An****other update? Calamity, are you crazy?...well 4 out of 5 doctors agree sooooo...ANYWHO! I can't promise that updates will always happen this quickly, but I haven't been able to stop writing, so for now they seem to. **

**I had to bring Pam in. I've wanted her in my other stories for a while, but never had the excuse and couldn't work her into the plot, but here...oh yes, Ivy is here. I loved the relationship between Harley and Ivy, even though they were both crazy, they were so supportive of each other. I realize that in cannon, they didn't meet until after their respective breaks with reality, but I'm going with it anyway.**

**Also, on the Joker's newest conversation with Harls. He's not going to come right out and say "Be Crazy with me" Doesn't work like that. But he WILL pick at things that make her uncomfortable. Things that make her stop and say "Whoa...what am I doing? Maybe he has a point." Like the comment on her glasses. He knows she's trying to prove herself and took special care to point out that it obviously isn't working since she's still being treated like an intern, though Arkham has a perfectly logical reason for monitoring her sessions with the Joker.**

**So? What do ya think? ;D**


	4. The Wonders of Security

I wouldn't get to see the Joker today.

That was my first real thought as I woke up that morning. I wouldn't see him and got the distinct feeling that my work day would be dull as a result.

I'll admit that it wasn't a particularly healthy frame of mind. I was a doctor who was charged with helping _patients_. Plural. Yet as I dressed and gathered my things, I knew that they all paled in comparison with the Joker. There were plenty of violent, intelligent patients in Arkham, plenty of crazies who attached personas to their new lifestyles, but none like him. Not really.

He was wholly unique, completely new, and damnit was he fascinating.

My first session wasn't until 10 that morning, so it gave me time to finish up a bit of paperwork in my office and head down to the employee's lounge for some vending machine wonders. After I'd gotten my chocolate fix, I sat down on the couch at the far end of the room and opened up the thick file on the Joker. I'd read it all multiple times, but I never got tired of it.

"I can't do it anymore!" A shrill female voice tumbled down the hall and into the lounge before I could bolt. Alyce Sinner stormed into the lounge and threw down a file onto one of the many round tables situated throughout the room. She was quickly joined by Dr. Leland who was looking a bit panicked.

"Have you _seen_ those pictures?" Sinner asked. When Leland didn't respond, she flipped open the file and pointed to one. From where I was sitting I got a brief flash of blood, so it meant those were the crime scene photographs of Zsasz's victims._ I_ had seen them.

"Normally he slits their throats, but the newest ones," she flung the pictures around to find the one she wanted, not caring that most ended up on the floor. "Look! It's disgusting, and the way he describes it…" Dr. Sinner slumped down into a chair, starring at the pictures with her head in her hands. "He's a monster."

"He's a serial killer." I corrected, closing my own file and tucking it back into my briefcase. Both doctors turned to me with varying expression of dislike and Leland crossed her arms.

"He kills these people because he thinks he has to. He thinks he's _helping_ them."

"Yes, Quinzel, I've read your diagnosis." Sinner said just a bit too snootily for my taste. "Manic depression, was it? He kills because he's sad?"

She was making fun of me and I had only wanted to consol her, though apparently I'd done a shit job. So, arching a brow I moved to grab the fallen pictures and plop them down right in her line of sight. I won't lie, watching her recoil was almost as satisfying as my chocolate bar had been.

"He kills because he has lost everything and thinks that life is meaningless, so yes, as you so _aptly_ put it, he kills because he's _sad_." I pointed at one of the women. Zsasz had positioned her in her favorite armchair to make it look as if she had fallen asleep with a book, something she often did according to her husband. When the man had come home from the movies with their three daughters, it had been the youngest who found her, throat cut and gathering flies.

"Victor sees us all as zombies, he thinks that by killing he is saving us from the despair of being alive. The tallies on his body are to mark all the lives he's _saved_."

Sinner pushed the images away and turned angry eyes on me. "He's delusional, I realize that! He tells me all about the things he's done to women, the way he's 'ended' some of them and it's…I mean he's just so _proud _of it."

"In his mind, he's _helping_ people. He has every reason to be proud." When she sniffled and turned away I felt a tiny twinge of pity. She was new to this, and didn't quite know how to deal with such violent patients yet. It had been a mistake for Arkham to assign her a case like Victor Zsasz so early.

"Listen, it gets easier." I said, touching her shoulder, "He told me those things too. In fact, he described how he would save _me_ when he got the chance. He's got a special place for _my_ mark when he liberates me."

Dr. Sinner's head snapped up to face me at that and she scowled. It seemed he had done the same to her. "It gets better?" she cried incredulously.

Leland, who had been silent until now, touched her shoulder timidly, "Alyce, why don't we-"

"You're telling me I should just listen to it like the fucking _weather_?" She laughed harshly and shook her head, "Well, forgive me, _Dr_. Quinzel, but I'm not that heartless yet. I just haven't reached _your_ level."

That did it. The pity disappeared and was replaced by rage.

"You're right. You're _nothing_ like me." I smiled savagely gripping my briefcase until my fingers went numb, "_I_ realized when I applied here that this was an institute for the _**criminally**__ insane_. Do you know that we house some of the most depraved minds in Gotham? Did you know that Waylon Jones is a _cannibal_? That Jervis Tetch not only lusts after his Alice character in girls, but has begun dismembering them as well to _preserve their innocence_? Victor Zsasz is not the last murderer you'll come across by a long shot. He isn't even the most creative, but if you can't handle that _doctor_ then I think you should _seriously_ reconsider your choice in career."

Sinner's mouth opened in shock that I had yelled at her and I stormed passed her to the door. Just before I left however, I turned back to her, noting with a small amount of pleasure the tears in her eyes.

"The reason he is so descriptive with you, is because he_ knows_ you can't handle it." I smiled again, "It's a game, Doctor, and you fell right into it."

With that, I left and wasn't surprised to hear something thump against the wall where I had been standing. I didn't regret what I'd said, it was the truth. She had obviously chosen the wrong career and the sooner she realized that, the better off she would be. Until then, let Victor torment her, it would be a good lesson.

I'm not sure where I was walking. It was only 9 and I still had an hour before I saw any of my patients. When I finally focused on my surroundings I was near the cafeteria and it was breakfast time for the general population. (i.e. the non-violent patients) Small groups of orderlies and patients moved through the halls down toward the cafeteria, some shuffling absently, some completely aware of their surroundings and constantly moving. My eyes fell on one rather tall patient and I almost laughed at my good fortune. Feeling the first layer of fury melt off me, I hurried to his side.

"Good morning, Jonathan." I smiled brightly.

The former Dr. Crane paused in his walk down the hall, quirking an eyebrow in question. He didn't smile, Jonathan never _really_ smiled, and when he did it was more of a leer. It meant he was about to do something awful.

"Dr. Quinzel." He said by way of greeting. In the last month, Crane had been allowed more privileges, such as rec-room activities and the occasional, supervised, outdoor excursion. Since he'd stopped attacking the nurses and orderlies, they didn't even make him wear restraints anymore. There were days I pitied him. His life had been this job, in the power he held over the asylum and in his title as doctor. Now he was only Crane, patient 52576. No power, no respect, and honestly, I think being locked in here was doing worse for his psyche then his fear gas had.

"Hey, uh doctor?" The orderly chaperoning smiled nervously; obviously he hadn't been here long. "I gotta get him to the cafeteria, so if you-"

"I will escort him, thank you." I said watching Crane. His cold, blue eyes shifted to the orderly, then back to me wondering if the guy would go for it.

"I don't know doc, I'm not supposed to let him out of my sight till we get to the caff."

"That won't be necessary." I said, "You're not going to hurt me, are you Jonathan?"

He shrugged. "It would delay my eating schedule."

It took him a minute, he obviously wasn't used to Crane's cavalier attitude about violence, but thankfully, he shrugged and stepped back.

"Yeah…um..I'll just be back to pick him up after then?"

"Good for you." I smiled then looped my arm through Crane's and began to lead him down the hall. It was slightly awkward, being that I was little under 5'7" and he was a few inches passed 6 feet.

"You're in a sour mood." He commented, keeping his eyes ahead. "Is there anything you'd like to share?"

I sighed; of _course_ he would see it. Being insane didn't mean he'd lost his knack for the job. Crane was a brilliant psychologist, it was part of the reason he'd been so terrifying when he'd lost it. His ability to read people was uncanny. Dangerously so.

"I had a…_disagreement_ with one of my coworkers." I said with a frown. I really shouldn't have been telling him this, but it was _Jonathan_. Crazy or not, I'd worked with him and he was just easy to talk to.

On his good days.

"Oh?" Crane replied, finally looking down at me. "Which one?"

"Alyce Sinner," I replied, even her name tasted hateful on my tongue, "Insipid little brat."

Crane chuckled, which meant he was in a rare good mood, or that he'd taken all of his meds today. "Ah yes. The _new_ girl. I take it Mr. Zsasz is not being easy on her. Not that he ever is."

"How did you know she was treating Victor?" I asked stopping in the middle of the hallway and pulling away from him.

Crane gave a rare little half-smile, "There is little else for me to do here. Some of my fellow inmates appreciate sharing with one who can truly understand them."

"You're treating the other patients?" I frowned. That was definitely _not_ a good thing.

"Treating?" Crane repeated, "No, Dr. Quinzel, _treating_ would imply that I have any intention of helping them."

There was a soft sort of amusement in his voice that I didn't understand. Then something occurred to me.

"Wait, Victor is high-security. The two of you have no contact, your schedules are set up to make sure of that. How are you talking with him?"

"How indeed." He replied, his tiny smile turning wicked. He was playing with me. He _wanted_ me to figure it out.

"You know I'll have to report this." I said. Even to myself I sounded less than happy with the fact. "If you've been getting out of your cell, they'll take away your privileges again. They might even put you back in isolation."

Crane sighed, shrugging dispassionately. "I don't mind the quiet."

"But you'll be alone."

At that his cold, cold eyes dropped to mine and a real smile curled his lips, turning his expression wicked and unnerving.

"Oh, doctor. I'm _never_ alone."

I stared at him a long time, trying to see something of the old Crane in him, but it was completely gone now. There had been a time when I'd fancied myself in love with this man. Of course it was only a crush, and Jonathan was not one to be romanced so it had been short-lived, but still, it hurt to see him this way. Treated like something less than human. I shouldn't pity him. Doing so would only give him power over me, and I wasn't naive enough to believe he wouldn't take advantage of that. And yet I did feel for him, I couldn't help it. He had been a reluctant mentor, but a good one. I admired Crane, even now.

"I've spoken with _him_ too, you know." Crane's voice was soft, his gaze steady and unyielding. He was waiting for my reaction.

"Him?" I asked, doing my best to keep my expression blank.

"He seems to like you, Harleen." At that his face went deadly serious, "Stay on your guard. He is manipulative, more than you or any of the others realize."

"Manipulative like you?" I asked with a scowl. The Joker. He was talking about the Joker.

He only chuckled and nodded down the hall. "Shall we, my dear?"

"That's _Doctor_, **Mr.** Crane." I said, feeling my anger growing again. It was cruel of me to call him by such a plain title, but he took it in stride. He'd known exactly what he was saying to me and the way I'd react. He deserved it.

After dropping Crane off for his breakfast, I made a note to speak with Arkham about the security around here. Apparently, it _sucked_.

* * *

**Ode to the Joker Blogs, for they make me smile. (Cranes number) Apparently the numbers stand for each Nolan-actor's birthday from the films. Don't know why I like that so much, but there you go. 4479...oh Scott McClure I _will_ find you...sexy little beast that you are. -ahem- I mean..._what_? **

**Anywho! Jonathan, you handsome devil, why do I love you so much? Again, I couldn't help myself, Crane is one of my favorites along with Eddie and Ivy. (No, Nashton will **_**not**_** be making an appearance here. But did anyone else notice that cute little letter he wrote in the Dark Knight viral marketing thing? He's one of the civilians writing about Harvey dent in the Gotham Times paper, and apparently he doesn't like the guy)**

**So, back to Jonathan, why did I choose to give them this relationship you ask? Well for one I always loved that episode of the animated series (Harley's Holiday, I believe) where the Bat hauls Crane kicking and screaming into the asylum, but when Harley says hi to him he stops, smiles, and gives her a charming little "hello my dear"…then goes back to screaming.**

**However, the real reason is because of the interesting little background it gives Harley. Is it coincidence that her mentor and crush turned out to be crazy, and now the love of her life just **_**happenes**_** to also be insane? Both are highly intelligent, manipulative and completely out of their minds…well according to public opinion anyway. I just like the thought of it.**

**Maybe Harley has always been a little off. **_**Maybe**_** she was just waiting for that **_**little **__**push.**_** You know, the one that's like gravity? Maybe it's not so crazy that she fell in love with a madman.**

**What do **_**you**_** think?**

**Also, SIDENOTE! I was cruising around another viral site for the Arkham Asylum game (damn did they go all out for that. The Asylum has a website now , check in out) anyway, on another sight, after r****idiculous** amounts of work, mind you, I found patient interveiws for Victor Zsasz (and croc/waylon jones and others, even Joker!) that just tickled me. They were so creepy and awesome. I loved it. I think you can probably find them on youtube or google. 

**But the one where Zsasz describes his theripist's apartment, down to the fact that she forgot to buy cat food..._again._ Holy Spine-tingling awesomeness, Batman!**


	5. All Things Are Weapons

I woke that morning feeling an excitement I didn't want to think about. Deep in my gut, bats were winging around, like I was waiting for my first kiss all over again under the bleachers back in high school. It was silly, I knew, but I told myself it was because I was so invested in my case. The Joker was so interesting, and I couldn't wait to hear what he told me next.

When I dressed for work, I found myself grabbing a tight-fitting blue button-up and a dark pin-striped business skirt. They weren't particularly flashy, but I felt powerful and attractive in them, and for some reason that was important today. On the way out the door, I slipped into my black heels and headed for the car with a smile.

"Morning, Dr. Quinzel." Aaron Cash was lounging at the front desk with a newspaper and I smiled brightly in greeting. As I passed the desk, I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks for keeping us all safe." I said, loving the confusion on his face then.

"Uh…yeah." He replied slowly, "No problem."

I smiled at all the doctors and orderlies I passed on my way to my office, humming to myself as I went through my email. Arkham had requested I meet him first thing that morning, so with a sigh, I pulled on my nifty doctor's jacket, clipped on my id and went to meet him.

He looked angry already. When I closed his office door behind me I felt the wave of frustration that billowed off of him and instantly my mood began to sink. This couldn't be good.

"I've been told that you spoke with Crane yesterday." Arkham said. As an opener, it wasn't promising.

"Yes sir."

"Why would you do that?" He demanded. Here it came. "I have made it abundantly clear that you are not to have contact with him, Harleen. It is against policy and-"

"It's not like I was treating him," I snapped before I could stop myself, "I just walked him to the cafeteria. What damage does that cause?"

"But you _did_ speak with him?" Arkham asked, looking angrier by the second.

"Of course." I replied, fighting the urge to do so sarcastically.

"About?"

_Think quick, Harls, distract him._

"I think he might be getting out of his cell, that or someone in high-security isn't doing their job. Apparently he's been talking to Victor Zsasz." I didn't mention the Joker, though I wasn't sure why. Something deep down just told me not to.

"You're sure of this?" he asked with a heavy scowl and I nodded. "When were you going to inform me of this?"

"Today."

"But not before your session with the Joker." It wasn't a question.

_Oops._

"Well I-"

"In fact, you've known about this since yesterday morning and you didn't bother to tell me."

"I'm sorry." I said, leaning forward to massage my temple, "Yesterday was rather stressful. It must have slipped my mind."

Arkham laughed without humor, "Of course! One of our more dangerous inmates has breached security and it _slipped your mind_."

"I don't think Victor is out, but Jonathan-"

"That is all, Dr. Quinzel." He interrupted, "You're done for the day."

"What? No! I have a session with-"

"Not today you don't. In fact I'm seriously reconsidering my decision to give you this case." He glared at me, but it couldn't have matched the fury in my own expression, "If you're forgetting things as serious as this, what else have you neglected to tell me?"

"Nothing." I replied sharply. He couldn't do this, damnit!

"We'll see." He said, turning his attention to the files on his desk. "You may go, doctor."

I didn't need to be told twice. I snatched up my briefcase and stormed out of the room like a petulant teenager. Not one of my best moments, but I was just so angry. In fact I was angry a lot lately. Maybe I did need a day off, but not today. Not when I was minutes away from my session with the Joker.

That bastard had managed to ruin my day so quickly I hardly understood it. On the drive back to my apartment I cursed and ranted. Letting out all the things I wanted to say to him but couldn't if I intended to keep my job.

Back in my apartment I chucked my briefcase into the wall and slumped onto the couch. I couldn't even call Pam. She was busy with her newest plant-buddy Marc LeGrande. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, Pammy hardly had an interest in guys, but this one seemed different. He was charming enough, but something about him just didn't sit well with me. He seemed…shifty.

My gaze feel on the box I'd brought from work on the Joker. Inside were his case files and taped sessions with several other doctors. With a sigh, I slipped down onto the carpet and dug into the box, pulling out an envelope of pictures. Some were from crime scenes, others were of the Joker himself.

One in particular was his mug shot from Black Gate before they'd grudgingly transferred him to us. It was an ever-raging battle with those bastards. They claimed he wasn't crazy, only pretending to stay out of jail, and we laughed in their faces and said "Oh _really_?"

I traced the line of his smile in the mug shot, as he proudly held up his name plate to the camera. There were traces of blood on his sleeve, and smeared down his neck, but I didn't know where he'd gotten them.

Funny that as a clown, he chose to wear a suit. (A rather nice one at that) I laid back on the floor, holding the mug shot up in the air. He seemed so certain of everything, even in this image. His wide grin said he'd be out of this bind in time and wasn't the least bit worried.

I lowered my hands, letting the picture settle on my chest and closed my eyes. Suddenly I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. One hand fumbled for the box, closing around the recorder within and I smiled, hitting rewind because I'd listened to this particular tape maybe a dozen times so far. My eyes were still closed when I hit the play button and let the recorder rest beside my head on the carpet.

"This is Doctor Vincent Marthellow, overseeing Alias: the Joker. Patient has no other known aliases."

"Is that_ bad_, doctor?" Even over the tape, his voice gripped me tight and wouldn't let go. "Shouldn't a man _know_ who he is?"

"Yes, but the Joker is not who you are. It isn't your real name." Marthellow laughed softly. "Is that why you changed it? What about yourself did you dislike so much that you had to become someone else?"

There was a brief pause and the Joker cleared his throat, shifting and jingling the chains that held him in his seat. Even in the beginning, they didn't trust him.

"Well that's not fair doc." He sighed, "Everyone dislikes _some_ part of themselves. Becoming someone else is like a vacation for the mind."

"Which is unhealthy." Marthellow replied simply.

"Only if you stay there."

"Then you agree that this persona you've created is unhealthy. The only way you're going to come to terms with who you are is if you accept the person you were_ before_ The Joker."

"No no no," he chuckled as if genuinely amused by this statement, "You don't get it, doc. _That_ man was the mask. He was a lie, a reaction to the anger and disappointment he faced every day in this…_city_."

I wondered briefly at that pause each time I heard it. What had he intended to say? What was he holding back?

"But this man was you." Marthellow insisted, "How could he be a lie?"

"The same way a cross-dresser feels incomplete without his dresses and make-up. He was born a man, but for whatever reason, that just isn't who he was _supposed_ to be. It's something you_ just_ **know**. You understand, right doc?"

This was it. The point where Marthellow slipped up and let the Joker take over the session. Everyone on staff knew that Vincent was a fan of satin nighties and a black bob-cut wig. He fancied himself a flapper. The thing was no one talked about it, and that's how he liked to keep it.

"Excuse me?" Marthellow cleared his throat, an obvious sign that he was uncomfortable with the subject. "How would I understand that?"

"I meant as a psychologist. You understand the things people do because you can get into their head." The Joker shifted again, perhaps to lean forward, "For instance you would understand the need to become something else. To drape yourself in glamour and finery because as a man it is not excepted to do so. To experience the feel of silk or satin and the open flow of a gown. The way your make-up covers imperfections to enhance the beauty every other woman takes for granted."

It was a convincing performance. If Harley didn't know better, she would have thought the Joker was hiding another interesting quirk, but she knew this was all for Vincent's benefit. If only this had been taped, then she could have watched the reactions of the therapist. Seen what her patient had seen as he tortured him.

"We're…"Marthellow cleared his throat, "We're getting off topic."

"Are we?" The humor in his voice was unmistakable.

"We should be talking about you. Now if you wouldn't mind-"

"Wait," the Joker interrupted, "I thought we_ were_ talking about me?" then he gasped as if shocked, "Does that mean..? _Doctor, _do you have a secret you need to share? I promise I won't tell."

Marthellow had recovered quickly after that, ignoring the question to ask his own and the Joker had lost interest. The session was nothing but standard questions after that, to which the patient gave meaningless, generic answers. I listened to this, to his voice until sleep took me, but he was still there even in my dreams.

**xx**

The repetitive squeal of my telephone woke me. I still clutched the recorder and the picture of the Joker had remained nestled against my chest. Sitting up with a groan, I hurried to the phone dock and picked up the receiver.

"Yes?" Fatigue made me grumpy.

"Damnit Harleen I've been calling you for the last half hour. Where have you been?" It was Arkham and, as was becoming common lately, he was pissed. "Why wasn't your cell phone on?"

"You sent me home." I reminded him, sliding down my wall to sit on the floor, "I didn't know I was supposed to be waiting for you to call me."

"Yes well, the situation has changed." Arkham cleared his throat and fumbled with the phone. Someone was muttering something on his end, but he didn't answer them. "The Joker was involved in an altercation between three of our high-security patients. It seems Mr. Bolton got distracted while the Joker was getting his lunch and the inmates attacked him."

Immediately I was standing, clutching the phone tightly. "What happened? Was he injured?"

"You're patient is _fine_ Doctor." Arkham said shortly, obviously displeased with my concern. "The three inmates who attacked him however-"

"What did he do?" I interrupted. I let my forehead conk against the wall and closed my eyes. This couldn't be good.

"Aaron Helzinger has been placed in intensive care but is expected to pull through, Cornelius Stirk has been fitted with a breathing tube, and Basil Karlo was pronounced dead an hour ago."

"Shit." I breathed. "How did he do it?"

Arkham laughed at that, though there was no real humor in his voice. "He used his _plastic lunch tray_. He beat them with the thing until it broke then used the pieces as shivs."

I nodded though he couldn't see it, and took a slow breath in. Blackgate would try to use this. They would spin it to look as if we couldn't contain him all because Bolton was an idiot and had probably been flirting with one of the nurses.

"Thank you for letting me know, Jeremiah. I really do appreciate it."

"We need you here, Quinzel." He said stiffly, "He's not cooperating with any of the staff, and most of them are too afraid to try anyway. You seem convinced that the two of you have a connection, so prove it."

"You want me to talk to him?" I asked, biting my lower lip to keep from smirking, even if he couldn't see it.

"I don't have much choice right now, doctor."

That was going enough for me. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I doubt it will take you that long." Arkham sighed, but I was already hanging up.

* * *

**Soooooo, no actual Joker in this one, but you'll live I'm sure. I just wanted to point out that the names of the inmates in this "altercation" are actual Arkham patients and villains in the comics. (Amygdala, Stirk, and the first Clayface) As is LeGrande. I've been trying to keep as many characters as in-world as I can. **

**Anywho, I'm off to type up the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy this one until then, though I'll admit it felt a bit like filler to me.**


	6. Choas and God

When I arrived at Arkham, the place was buzzing. It was like someone had shaken the beehive and disturbed the swarm.

Not that it surprised me. When things like this happened, it tended to stir up the other inmates. It's like they could feel the negative energy and reacted to it accordingly. Some howled, some thrashed about in their cells or restraints. It was always a circus at the asylum after such things.

Circus…the thought made me smile.

I hurried to Arkham's office, avoiding the busy elevators to trek the stairs. I was bustled passed by the occasional orderly, but for the most part managed to avoid the others. Once there I found a note taped to the door.

_Quinzel,_

_Meet us in examination room 12._

_Arkham_

I crumpled the note and stuffed it into my lab coat, digging for my laminate. The search didn't end until I'd gotten to the second basement floor where high-security patients were kept. The elevator opened to a long hallway and a giant door of frosted glass. Once passed that door however, was another completely transparent door, fitted with a locking mechanism that I had always found a bit overzealous. It looked like we were trying to keep in inhumanly strong mutants rather than the violently disturbed patients.

Lyle Bolton sat on the other side of the door, flipping through some nude magazine. I knocked on the glass, motioning for him to open the door. Since taking the Joker on as a patient, I had been given a higher level of security clearance throughout the building. Normally, I would have used my laminate and swiped the thing over the scanner located right next to the door. I'd left the damn thing at home in my rush though, so I needed to be buzzed in from inside.

Bolton ignored me to inspect the center fold-out in his magazine, though I saw him glance my way. After a moment, I hit the door with my fist.

"Open the damn door, Bolton." I said angrily, but he only shook his head, idly pushing the speaker button on his microphone to talk to me from inside the door.

"Sorry, Doctor. No can do." He smiled, "We're in lock down tonight."

I pulled the note from my pocket and slammed it up against the glass. "Arkham wants me in there. Now open the door."

"Nobody told me anything about it." He said, going back to flipping through his magazine. I was ready to scream when I spotted Aaron Cash storming down the hall. He saw me, noted the paper in my hand then arched a brow at Bolton.

I had to hold back my laugh when he slapped him upside the back of his head. "Open the door, jackass."

Then the microphone squealed off and the locks began opening with an angry metallic groan. I didn't waste time yelling at Bolton , just slapped the letter on his desk and smiled at Cash.

"Sorry, Dr. Quinzel. He's an idiot."

I gave him a quick, one-armed hug and waved it off. "Thanks Aaron."

Then I was nearly running down the hall, doing my best not to fall in my heels. I skidded to a halt outside the examination room door and found it crawling with doctors and orderlies. Arkham was among them, and upon seeing me he gave a heavy sigh of what might have been relief.

"Is he in there?" I asked, quickly undoing my hair to gather it again and twist it back into place. I held it all up with a long sharpened pencil, much like one might do with chopsticks.

"He's been medicated but it may be wearing off by now."

"That's probably for the best. It's hard enough to keep his attention without drugs." At least for other doctors. He seemed perfectly happy to talk with _me_.

Arkham nodded, "We've also put him in a strait jacket."

"That's not necessary-"

Arkham's eyes narrowed before cutting me off. "He _killed_ someone tonight, Harleen, or did you forget? When exactly do _you_ think restraints become necessary?"

I held up a placating hand and tried my best not to sound short, but I just wanted to get in there. Why couldn't he just trust me to do my job?

"I understand," I began, "But if he's refusing to speak with anyone, then I hardly think forcing him into a straitjacket is going to help. I'm not asking to leave it off for good, just while I'm talking to him. Maybe he'll feel like I trust him and open up just a little."

Arkham's eyes closed as he rubbed his temple and then nodded. "Fine, fine. Do it. Just find out what happened today, I have to tell those vultures from Blackgate _something _before they take this to the new district attorney. It may already be too late."

I nodded to the biggest orderly around, wanted to at least seem as if I were intimidated by what I was about to do, then moved to the door. With a slow inhale I turned the knob and stepped inside.

The examination room was set up like most the others, except for the steel loops bolted into the floor where inmate's restraints could be secured. This had been done to the Joker, the lengths of chain connecting to his straitjacket and forcing him to hunch down into his metal chair. He went still when he saw me, eyes going to the big guy that followed me in with the keys, and a tiny twitch of a smile quirked one corner of his mouth.

"Good evening, Mr. J." I said as the orderly slowly approached him and unfastened the straitjacket. "I'm told you've had an eventful day."

He licked his lips, fingers twitching once the orderly had removed the jacket. He sat still while the guy replaced it with handcuffs, tightening them more than necessary, then folded the jacket in his arms and hurried out.

"So," I said slowly, pulling the chair opposite him out from the table to sit down. "Do you want to tell me about what happened today?"

"You stood me up." He said, which kind of through me off. My mouth opened and closed again while he rolled his eyes to the side and leaned forward, "Here_ I_ was looking forward to our time together, and you never **showed**." His black eyes snapped back to me and narrowed just enough that I felt a chill, "It makes a guy wonder. I thought we had something _special_ Harley."

I should have been concerned by the way he compared our session time to dates. It could be dangerous to let him continue that way, but at the moment all I cared about was that he thought I'd missed our session on _purpose_.

"I think so too, Mr. J." I smiled leaning forward, and glanced at the door as if someone might come through it. "I kind of got into trouble this morning. They made me leave."

"_Oh-ho-ho," _he giggled, leaning forward as well with a big grin. "Trouble? _You_? Naughty girl."

I smiled, ducking my head a moment then pushed my glasses back into place. "I have my moments."

He titled his head at that, looking me over. "It wasn't anything too bad, I trust. We wouldn't want you getting..uh_, suspended_."

I waved it off with a soft laugh, "No. It was just a slap on the wrist. Arkham just wanted to remind me who was in charge."

The Joker nodded, "It must be difficult as a woman in this profession. All the boys trying to prove that you can't possibly do it like them."

"That is true of every profession, and has been since the beginning. I've learned to take it in stride." I sighed, then slid my glasses off to set them on the table. "Mr. J as much as I'd love to chat, I really need you to tell me-"

"I like you without the glasses, Doc. You've got _won_derful eyes, those silly things just distrac**t** from them."

I paused, knowing that he was just avoiding the subject and yet slightly embarrassed by his comment. I looked away again, wondering if I was blushing or just imagining the heat in my cheeks. Deciding to focus on the subject at hand helped to put it out of mind and move forward.

He obviously didn't want to talk about it, so I would have to work it out of him. Maybe after a little more conversation he'd let it slip. Something stimulating that he would enjoy talking about with me. When the idea hit me, I hardly kept back my smile.

"I'd rather we keep the conversation off of my eyes, thank you."

His smile became just a hint wicked, "That's fine with me. There's plenty more of you to focus on."

"Mr. J" I said in warning, but didn't bother covering my amused smile. He chuckled, shifting in his seat, and watched me closely.

"So, what's it going to be today then, Doc? What do _you_ want to talk about?"

I smiled, "Chaos."

"_Ooooh_," His eyes went instantly bright and his smile grew a notch. He pretended to shiver in excitement, leaning forward with a big grin. "Interesting choice."

"So?" I asked resting my chin on my fist, "Why chaos?"

The Joker shrugged, "It's the way of the _world_. The way of the **wild**."

"But that's not necessarily true. _Nature_ is balanced. When a predator begins to out-populate its food source, nature steps in to fix it. Maybe with disease, or a thousand other things, but it's all about balance."

"Is it?" he asked, "So everything happens for a _reason_? A toddler dies of cancer and it was, uh, _supposed_ to happen?"

"Well, I don't know about that-"

"The laws of Nature became obsolete when we stopped _evolving_. Nothing is balanced anymore, we create the world to suit **us**, rather than the other way around." His fingers fluttered restlessly around to indicate the world and he licked his lips, "See, everything is so _easy_ now. We've become so docile, with our instant meals and pre-cut strips of tape. It's all at our fingertips" he feigned like he was playing the piano, "it's all instant, all _safe_. It's all _so_** easy** that soon we won't have to do _any_thing. We won't have to _deal_ with anything."

"So you're saying that blowing up hospitals and murdering Gothamites is somehow helping all this?"

"It won't always be this way." He said, planting both hands on the table top, "Eventually everything will fall through, and there won't be a _single_ person ready for it. They won't know how to live in a world without rules or instantaneous-_everything_. They'll just _curl_ up and **die**."

"But not you." I said, unable to take my eyes off him. His energy now was bright, swirling, and electric. I could feel him drawing me in farther with each word he spoke. "You're different."

"I don't _need _rules to function. Not like the rest of you. Most of you just wouldn't _make_ it without your right and wrong. You **need** someone telling you what to do to feel _safe,_" He titled his head, motioning toward the ceiling. "It's like…well it's like **God. **See, _some_ people can't live without him. They don't like to think that we're really_ alone. _They can't believe that there is no destiny, nothing's _planned_ for them. It drives 'em _**craazy. **_So they tell themselves that he's..uh, _up_ there, watching them."

"I take it you don't believe in God then?"

He made a distasteful expression, sitting back in his chair and tapping out a quick rhythm on the table between us. "Religion is cold comfort. People tell themselves that everything happens for a_ reason_ so they can handle all the _bad_ things they're dealt. But the bad things never stop happening, no matter how much you **pray**, or how many chickens you **bleed. **There is no _order_. What happens, happens. _Nothing_ is preordained."

"Chaos is the only constant." I finished and he pointed at me as if to say 'you got it'. I took that in, making a quick note of it in my head. Had he been religious once, I wondered? Was his hatred of order and design the result of too many unanswered prayers? It was possible_, anything_ was possible with him. But something told me it wasn't the case.

"What about me?" I asked, "Do you think _I'm_ blind like the rest of them?"

The Joker smiled and his cuffed hands shot across the table. He'd grabbed mine before I knew what to do and held them tight.

"Don't worry Harley, I'll help you _see_ again."

I looked at him a long time before glancing down at our hands and taking a shuddering breath. I'd never touched him before, I realized. It had never occurred to me before now. His hands were callous, like that of a carpenter or construction worker. Something that involved danger, I guessed because there were tiny scars along his hands and up his arms. Now that I was close enough to see them, I couldn't tear my eyes away. His skin was also warm. Warmer than it should have been, I thought, wondering if he were sick or just ran hotter than the rest of us. It was an interesting thought, almost as if he were another breed of human entirely.

"Something wrong, Doc?" he asked. He hadn't looked away from my face and it was making this harder. I cleared my throat, feeling his hands tighten around mine and finally met his eyes.

"N-no. It's just…" My eyes went back to the flesh on the back of his long-fingered hands. Tentatively I pulled my hands from his and slid my fingers along the backs of his knuckles. The Joker's eyes went down to them, and his brows raised slightly in question as I traced the tiny multitude of scars, wondering how he'd gotten all of them. Surely it wasn't all thanks to his current profession. What had he been before this that had so thoroughly marred him? Titling my head, I lifted his right hand, running my thumb along the thin white line that ran the length of his finger.

"Harley." He said my name gently, with a smile in his voice, but I was focused on memorizing every inch of his hands, long-fingered and slender like an artist.

"Mmhmm?" I replied distractedly.

"I _thiiink_ you should be getting back to the others. Wouldn't want them to worry."

"Uh-huh." I murmured, not really hearing him save the sound of his voice.

The Joker chuckled, gently slipping his hands from mine and placed them both beneath the table out of my sight.

"Sooner is better, _Pooh_."

I looked up at the pet name, feeling as if I'd been in a fog, and nodded.

"Alright. I guess…um. I'll see you soon, Mr. J."

"I'll be waiting." He replied, waving me off with an odd smile I couldn't read.

The moment I'd left the room, the orderly with the jacket was back inside with a big friend to strap my patient back down like he was some kind of rabid dog. Arkham rushed to my side, though I was busy starring after the fascist prick with the straitjacket. It took several attempts to get my attention and when he did, I was still less than focused.

"So?" Arkham asked, his frown said I should be concerned by what my expression was conveying, but I couldn't bring myself to care. "Dr. Quinzel?"

"Yes?" I asked, shaking from the fog to really look at him.

"What did he tell you?" Arkham asked watching me closely and drawing away as if I were contagious.

"Weren't you recording?" I asked.

"The camera was down." He replied slowly. Inside I cheered at my good fortune.

"It was self defense." I said, "They attacked and he retaliated. My guess is they were just notoriety seekers. They wanted to prove themselves by going after the big fish."

_What are you doing Harleen? Why are you lying?_

"We have the security tapes to tell us that much."

"Well that's all I got out of him." I snapped. "He was angry at me for missing our session today." At this I gave him a pointed look. "I promised it wouldn't happen again."

Arkham sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Just stay on call for this evening, Harleen. I'm going to go attempt to smooth this out with Blackgate. If I'm lucky, you won't be losing your patient."

_And you won't be losing your biggest source of income._

I don't remember walking back to my office. I don't know whether I took the stairs or the elevator. Whether I passed anyone on the way or not. I only knew that once I got there, I closed the door, locked it and sat at my desk, thinking about what had just happened and what the hell I was going to do with myself now that it had.

* * *

**Ok, this time I have to have feedback guys. What did you think of this? What did you like, what did you not? I must know because I enjoyed the crap out of writing the conversation between the Joker and Harls.**

**I feel like it really just came out _well_, but I need to know if that's just my opinion.**


	7. Roses and Thorns

The next morning had been pleasant enough. I came to work to find a rose on my desk, no card or signature, but cute enough. The idea of a secret admirer was flattering. After the initial giddiness of wondering who it could be however, the day and gotten somewhat tedious.

Paperwork, paperwork, a few calls to the psychopharmacology department on the bottom floor about upping and lowering medications, yet more paperwork and then lunch. I'd gotten the eye from most of the doctors in the staff longue, probably over the incident with Dr. Sinner. It didn't really bother me though, I'd been right and they could all go ahead and shun me if it made them happy.

After eating my grilled chicken salad and ignoring the lot of them, I trudged back to my office to find that it was finally time for my appointments. Not the Joker's, not until 3, but still, better than paperwork. Arkham was even busy with his own patients today (the few, prestigious ones he kept, like Waylon Jones, the cannibal ) so I wouldn't have to see him. And better yet, he wouldn't be breathing down my neck when I spoke with the Joker.

The first patient of the afternoon was a young man by the name of Arnold Etchinson. He was a paranoid schizophrenic who was convinced his family was evil. Not just mean, but sent from hell to _destroy_ him evil. He'd been in and out of this place for years now, but each time he came back things were worse.

"And your mother saw this happen as well?"

"Well, she doesn't notice _anything_. She's too simple. Stupid bitch." He rocked forward in his seat and shook his head. "Doesn't seem like she could remember to _breathe_ without help, but I know it's an act! She's in on it, _the whole lot_ of them are _in_ on it the bastards."

I nodded and glanced down at my notepad to inspect the line of my tiger's front leg. It had been a bitch to get the detail so small from halfway under the table or tilted away from Etchinson. He didn't mind, though. It only took a question about his family to provoke a rant, and I was happy to have the time to let my mind wander. Etchinson was a lost cause. Weird and paranoid, but harmless.

There was a knock on the door, (plain wood since he wasn't considered dangerous) and a guard I didn't recognize stepped inside.

"It's time to go, Dr. Quinzel." I nodded and packed away my things while Etchinson muttered to himself. An orderly came in to escort him back to his room while I followed the guard. Each step brought more anticipation as we made our way to the lower floors and my secured room where I'd talk to the clown.

The guy walked me into the room and stopped in front of me to get my attention. "If you need anything, I'm right outside the door. Just hit the buzzer."

"She already knows she's **safe**, big guy, especially with_ you_ here." I suppressed a strange shiver of excitement at the sound of his voice, and stepped around the guard with an assuring smile.

"What's your name?"

"Uh.." he glanced at the Joker as if nervous to let out the information, "Mike."

"Well, thanks Mike. I'm good here, just buzz the door when our time's up."

I smiled as I waved him off and closed the door behind me noting the hiss of the locks going into place around it. It was a bit extreme I thought. Wouldn't it be worse to be _trapped_ with a psychopath even if you're stopping his escape? Some things just weren't thought through.

It stopped mattering as I sat down however. The Joker grinned pleasantly while I pulled out my special notepad, a leather bound lockable thing specifically for his case, and I got comfortable.

"You seem to be in a good mood." I commented. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"I traded a guy for his _Pimozide_ at lunch."

"You what?" I frowned, "Mr. J, that is a very specific drug. You don't know what it could do to you."

"And how else would I figure it out?" he asked, then frowned a bit, "I was hoping to get lucky, but it's just making me restless. Happy to talk with my favorite doctor though, as always."

I arched an eyebrow and made a note to get the orderlies to watch him take his meds more closely. "You say that, and yet here you go making things difficult for me."

"Difficult?" he laughed, "I wouldn't _dream_ of it. Didn't you find my **gift**?" he asked, leaning forward, hands folded up under his chin.

"Gift? The only things I've gotten this week were paperwork and that pretty…" then it hit me, and my eyes widened, "Wait, _you_ gave me the rose?"

"I know I know," he waved it off, "They're so cliché, but I didn't have a lot of options."

"Mr. J, how did it get it into my office?" I did my best to remain calm, glancing at the camera mounted on the wall. Arkham wasn't watching this, but someone might be. Oh god, he'd been in my _office_.

"I _put_ it there." He said, as if it should have been obvious.

"But, you…you can't be out of your cell! And that was my personal-"

"Are ya mad?" he asked, with a faux look of regret, "It's not like I looked through your diary…well." He rolled his eyes to the side mischievously, smirking, "I would have. But you don't _have_ a diary. I** looked**. In fact, there wasn't much of_ anything_ in there, Doc. No pictures of family or friends, no ironic little comic strips tacked to the walls." He traced a box in the air. "Just those fancy degrees. And a _phone_boo**k**." He added the last casually, though he must have known it would upset me.

Shit! Pam's number was in that book. What if he did something to Pam? Oh god, this was getting out of control. This was beyond bad.

"If you so much as call anyone on that list-"

"There was one thing." He interrupted, watching me with that damn cocky smirk of his, "Your screen saver was interesting. Gymnastics, Doc?"

My fists were clenched on the table and he glanced down at them, but didn't seem worried. "It's how I got into school. A full scholarship for gymnastics." If I played this game for a little while he might answer me strait. He _liked_ to dominate the conversation, so I'd let him.

He leaned forward, tilting his head in interest, "But you didn't _stick_ to it?"

"No. I probably could have gone pretty far. Maybe nationals, maybe farther than that, but.."

"But what?" he asked, his voice was so soothing, so soft, I couldn't help myself from continuing. What harm could it do?

"I didn't _want_ it. My father pushed. He said I was a fool to waste all that potential on counseling freaks and crazies, but it just wasn't making me happy anymore. I think he wanted it more than I did, he always had."

"So you and daddy didn't get along too well?"

"No, we got along fine, as long as I was doing what _he_ wanted me to do. First self defense, then art, then gymnastics. He wanted me to push myself, to be the best at whatever I was doing, but he didn't understand that I wasn't passionate about those things. They were fun for a while, but I just…"I trialed off, closing my eyes. When I opened them again the Joker had the most peculiar look on his face. He seemed…what was that? Worried? He looked genuinely sorry for me.

"Did your relationship change when you decided to become a doctor?"

I laughed without humor and sat back in my chair, "He told me I was stupid. I shouldn't want to spend my life holding hands with serial killers. He didn't understand that I wanted to _help_. It was important to me." The Joker nodded that I should continue, and I couldn't stop myself from doing so, "He stopped calling me after a while, said we didn't have much to talk about anyway. He didn't want to hear about my new job." I scoffed but my throat had gotten tight, "The bastard didn't even tell me he was sick. I just got a call from the hospital saying they did their best, blah blah. They'd moved him to Metropolis were they could treat him better, but it was too late. You know, he didn't even inform them he had other relatives. They _asked_ him if he had someone he needed to call and he…"

I hadn't realized I was crying until a tear plopped down on my notes, smudging the letters. The Joker gave me a moment to pull myself back together, letting me wipe my eyes and breath deep until the tears subsided. I didn't want to cry about this. I'd done my guilty sobbing for my father for months after his death. I didn't even know why it was hitting me so hard now.

"What about your mother?" the Joker asked gently, "Couldn't she take care of him? It couldn't have been _completely_ up to you."

"No." I shook my head, sniffling, "She died when I was 6. He was alone and I…"

That did it. Like a tidal wave, guilt and grief washed over me and the tears returned, blurring my eyes. I leaned forward, covering my face.

"I should have been there. I should have visited him, I was just so angry! All I wanted was for him to be proud of me and when he wasn't I turned my back on him." I was sobbing openly now, "Oh god, he must have felt so alone."

Warm hands closed around mine, pulling them gently away from my face. Warmer than they should be, but comforting none the less. It was an odd sight though, The Joker holding me with his shackled wrists.

"_Hey_," he soothed, "_Shhshhshh_, it's all right. You didn't_ know_ he was **dying**." He said, rubbing his thumbs across the back of my hands, "I'm sure he knew you loved him, even if you weren't there for him when it counted."

More sobs came and I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the table. "I should have been there." I insisted, "He needed someone, without my mom he couldn't…I should have _been_ there!"

"Yes." Came the Joker's soft reply and I looked up, chest tightening in agonizing guilt, "You _should_ have." He said, his expression calm and knowing and a thousand different things that I couldn't understand because he was far wiser than me in the matter of death.

"You _should_ have been there," he repeated, then reached out to cup my cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb, "But you didn't _know_ Harley. It wasn't _your_ fault he got sick."

But deep down, I'd always known that it was. My mother had always taken care of him and when she'd died, it had been up to me. I'd cooked and reminded him to take his medicine. Even after I'd moved out, I would call him at night to remind him and tell him that I loved him. How many times had he forgotten to take his pills without me there? How many times had he settled for unhealthy snack foods rather than dinner? It was my fault he got sick. My fault he died alone, in a tiny little hospital room.

"I abandoned him." I whispered, closing my eyes again and leaning into the hand that comforted me.

"It's in the past." The Joker replied softly, "You can't change it now."

But he didn't deny what I'd said. He knew, just like me, that it was true and he wouldn't coddle me by lying about it. I'd let my father die alone. I was a monster.

"Come now, Harley," the Joker spoke softly still, gently. "It's all right. You're still here. You're su**c**-_cess_-ful and s**t**rong-"

"I'm not strong, I…" but then I realized something terrible.

The Joker was comforting _me_. I'd spilled my heart to him like this was _my_ therapy time. When had the roles reversed? When had I stopped being the doctor?

I pulled away then, grabbing my things in a rush and stood from the table. "I…I have to go."

He didn't reply just watched as I scrambled for the door and hit the buzzer. The doors were reinforced, so the guard who waited to let me out and take the Joker to his cell hadn't heard everything, but if I didn't pull myself together he'd see that I'd been crying like a baby.

"You still got another 10 minutes." Mike said, while I pretended to be occupied with putting my notes back into my briefcase. Anything to keep him from seeing my blotchy face and the tears that shimmered all over it.

"I've gotten all I need for today. You can take him back now."

I don't really know what I was thinking, or if I was thinking at that point, but somehow I found myself in the security station for the floor. Thankfully it was empty, and I quickly ejected the tape of my session and slipped in into my briefcase. I couldn't let Arkham or anyone else see what had happened in there. How I'd crumbled in front of the Joker. It was dangerous and stupid, something no self-respecting doctor would have done. Then I hot-footed it back to my office, sticking to back hallways and stairwells rather than the elevators. When I got there, I locked the door, threw down my things, and sobbed until my face burned from the salt.

* * *

**Say it with me class…DAD-DY ISS-UES.**

**I wanted to make sure this was clear for everyone, since it has always been an interesting part of their relationship to me. ****I've never really liked that whole "call me daddy" thing with men, it's icky. Sorry, but I just can't do it. HOWEVER, in this case, the fact that the Joker uses Harley's past against her like this has always fascinated me. He refers to himself as Daddy for her MANY times in the comics. He's her lover yes, but he also became a father figure, and Harley is constantly trying to make him proud of her, the way her own father never was. I see them getting down with the Daddy's Girl fetish. It's a little twisted, but this is the only time this sort of thing has ever made me stop and say "hot damn…that's kinda sexy."**

**Anyway, I just wanted to get this out there, because it **_**will**_** come up again and when it does, I want you know what the Joker is doing, since our poor misguided Harley won't.**

**Side note: Arnold Etchinson is a serial killer from the comics convinced that his family is evil. I like to think this is the time before he snapped and Harley is just overlooking the signs because of her fixation with Mr. J.**

**Also give it up for Mad Love, without which the backstory of our favorite pair would be..all blurry**

**Until next time, and as always feedback is much appreciated…and craved.**


	8. Insanity

_**I'd love to take you home with me and tuck you into bed  
I'd love to see what makes you tick inside your pretty head  
I'd love to hear you laugh tonight, I'd love to hear you weep  
I'd love to listen to you while you're screaming in your sleep  
I'd love to soothe you with my voice and take your hand in mine  
I'd love to take you past the stars and out of reach of time  
I'd love to see inside your mind, to tear it all apart  
To cut you open with a knife and find your sacred heart  
I'd love to take your satin dolls and tear them all to shreds  
I'd love to mess your pretty hair, I'd love to see you dead**_

–**Insanity by Oingo Boingo-**

**

* * *

**

It was nearly 2 in the afternoon when I woke up from my short nap in the meeting room. Arkham liked to have these cute little pow-wow sessions with all the doctors so he could make sure he wasn't behind on anything. Admittedly, I should be glad that he cared enough to stay on top of his job, but the meetings were always so _boring_.

I'd found a seat near the back, hidden between several doctors and slipped into LaLa-land before I knew what was happening. Then again, I'd gotten no sleep the previous night. Not after what had happened with the Joker.

I was still reeling from it.

What was I going to do about this? I couldn't go in there and pretend nothing happened, that would only let him know how disconcerted I was by it. Then again striding in there and confront him about it head on might do the same. I had no idea what I was going to do and our session was right after this meeting. It wasn't as if I could go to anyone for help, now was it?

I paused, sitting straighter without trying to attract attention. Couldn't let Arkham know I'd been sleeping after all. I chewed on my lip as I considered my options and came up with none. I was at a complete loss and feeling just a bit desperate.

God, I _really_ needed a day off.

**xXx**

I felt as if I were marching into a trap as I made my way to the high security floor on the bottom level where, I'd meet with the Joker. I wasn't sure exactly what kind of trap yet, just that the closer I came, the more _nervous_ I became until I had to clench my fists to steady myself.

When I got to the door of our examination room, I found it open, which struck me as a bit foolish, even if the clown was restrained. Mike was bent over the Joker tightening the first of the handcuffs to his right wrist and the chain that was bolted into the floor. Part of me wanted to confront him about his protocol and dissuade taking such risks, but I was in no state to reprimand anyone at the moment.

Besides, if I showed him that I wasn't frightened by him, maybe by leaving his restraints off, it might not look as if I were thrown off by our last appointment. Maybe he would even think I respected him enough to make us equals in the room. It had worked with other patients before, I might just get lucky.

"There's no need for that Mike." I said, making him jump and spin on me. His hand went to the holster of his gun instinctively, but I arched a brow at him, and crossed my arms, closing the door behind me.

"Chill out and take his cuffs off, will you? I have a schedule to keep."

Mike glanced between us a moment, meeting the Jokers eyes briefly, then sighed and turned back to unlock the restraints, leaving the Joker able to move freely. It was bold, but I was still hoping for the best.

"Gee doctor, I'm fla**tt**ered. What brought _this_ on?" He said rubbing his wrists for a moment. I rolled my eyes and waved him off.

"I just think that you have proved to be a polite man when you want to be, and now I'm going to see if you can remain that way."

He giggled leaning forward and smiling wide. "We'rebuilding trust _now_, is that what you're saying? And here I thought you felt _com_-fo**rt**-able around me. After all, you've shared _so_ **much** with me already."

The slight derision in his tone sparked anger and I laughed humorlessly. Turning back to him, I leaned forward to emphasize my point, "Bite me, you-"

But I trailed off when his hand snaked around the back of my neck and dragged me toward him across the table.

"_Ohmygod_." Was all I could manage to hiss as his teeth closed down over the tendons at the base of my throat. He bit down hard enough that I sucked in a gasp of pain, but couldn't pull away. I was stunned and frozen.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He ignored me and continued up the column of my throat with short rough bites, pausing just behind my neck. I could feel his breath on the back of my ear and trembled. This was all too much in too short a time. Couldn't I catch a break? Then there came the thought that I'd never been this close to him. Touching his hands was one thing, but this? This was too much. Then I found myself thinking that it was strange, but he smelled like something dangerous and appealing; like the generic soap given to the patients and something all his own. I attributed the thought to shock.

"You _told_ me to do it, Harls." I pulled back but couldn't get out of his grip. His fingers curled in my hair and forced back my head. I stared up at him, wide eyed, and unable to move while I searched his face. There was a long moment when I thought he might kiss me; when his dark eyes met with mine momentarily before slowly trailing down to my lips, and my breath hitched.

His smile betrayed him this time when it turned just a touch too smug. Like he'd just proved a theory to himself, and it wasn't hard to guess what that was. It was then I realized that this was all a test. I had been getting so _comfortable_ around him; sharing my hidden pains as if I trusted him implicitly. He wanted to know if I was attracted to him as well, and I'd given him reason to believe that _yes_, I was.

_Stupid stupid girl._

The Joker continued to hold me still, tightening his fingers in my hair until I sucked in a short breath of discomfort. He arched a brow at the sound, giving a crooked smirk and leaned in until our breath was mingling. His breath smelled like strong coffee and found myself wondering where he'd gotten it. I didn't think they served the high security patients such things. Caffeine led to problems for most of them. The Joker tilted his head, moving to brush my lips with his own rough scarred ones while I remained utterly frozen and helpless.

But then, as if it had never happened at all, he pulled away and pushed me gently back to my seat across from him, leaning back in his chair with an expression I failed to translate. I couldn't do much of anything really, not with my head spinning the way it was.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and sat strait in my metal chair. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes now, feeling the heat of a blush on my face and hating myself for it. The Joker didn't move, or speak, simply waited for my response. It didn't matter though, I couldn't have spoken anyway. I was shaking like I'd just walked out of a freezer and my breathing had yet to steady, all the while I felt the overwhelming power of his eyes as he watched me. After he realized I was speechless however, the clown chuckled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and crossing his arms.

"Forgive me, Doc. I just got so…_curious_. And here **you** are, all _timid_ and _qui_et, as if you aren't ju**st** as interested."

Had he really just said that? My god, this was all such a mess! I should never have removed the restraints. After our last session, doing it had made him assume I was becoming familiar with him. He was testing our boundaries.

"Don't be ridiculous. You just stunned me, that's all." I cleared my throat and forced myself to look at him sternly, well as much as I could _manage_ in my current state. "I have to say that was _completely_ inappropriate. I had thought you respected me enough to withhold the cheap tricks, or did you really think I'd believe you were interested in me? I've studied you well enough to know you don't take in many female companions."

"Studied," he murmured, as if to himself, then shook his head. When he looked at me again his gaze was steady and very intense. "What if I just want to get you into _bed_?"

That one caught me off guard and I fumbled, mouth bobbing a second before I slapped the table in exasperation.

"That's enough! _You_ are crossing a line." I snapped. "This is escalating and I _should_ have put a stop to it in the beginning. I don't want your games or more gifts like the rose. You aren't _fooling_ anyone."

"_Fooling_?" he frowned then shook his head vigorously, holding up a hand. "Do you really think this is some sort of tactic? _Seduce_ my _therapist_? To what end, exactly? More entertaining _medications_?"

Anger was blotting out my uncertainty now, and I just let the word flow out. "I don't know why you're doing it, but it stops **now**. _Do you hear me_? This is over!"

He sat forward again as if to argue, but the mechanical lock on the door clanked open and the metal scraped loudly in the small room and it swung inward. I'd jumped at the sound, feeling my stomach hit the floor when it was Arkham who walked in, looking less than pleased about something. He glanced between us, narrowing his eyes on the Joker, then motioned for me to follow him out the door. I did so without question, eager for at least the distance between myself and the infuriating man in front of me.

"I see he's out of his restraints." Arkham said as we left the room, though his tone was surprisingly resigned.

"I wanted to see what he would do." I lied, "If I show him trust, he's likely to reciprocate."

"And has he?"

I cleared my throat, feeling as if the truth were stamped across my face and avoided his eyes. "Well he isn't trying to hurt me anymore." Was my throat covered in bite marks? Could he still see the flush in my tone? This was incredibly nerve-wracking.

Mike had disappeared into the room with the Joker, probably to take him back to his cell, but I didn't mind that our time had been cut short. I didn't know what to do with him anyway. For once, I was thankful to be with Arkham, though I was getting curious as to what was happening.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Jeremiah?" I asked, crossing my arms. In response, he gave a humorless chuckle and ran his fingers back through his hair. It was what Jonathan used to do when he was irritated or stressed, before he'd started killing people of course. Arkham led me down the hall and to the common room where we took seats.

"Well, we have a problem."

"Oh?" I replied slowly, "Which is?"

"Cornelius Stirk was pronounced dead at 2 am this morning. It seems he was too badly damaged to pull through, as we'd expected."

"Stirk?" I prompted.

Arkham arched a brow and stared down at me. "He was one of the men your patient attacked with his lunch tray."

"_They_ attacked him." I corrected before I could stop myself. He might have freaked me out just now, but he was still my patient and it was still my job to protect him.

"The **point**," Arkham said tersely, "is that he is dead. That makes two victims at the Joker's hand in this week alone and both on our watch."

"What are you saying?" I asked, feeling my chest tighten in worry. Arkham shook his head.

"Blackgate has claimed that we can't control him. They're saying we aren't fit to watch over him anymore, and it seems like the city agrees. The people are scared that he will escape again, and no one wants to waist the money to teach him arts and crafts when they could just send him to prison with the other dangerous inmates."

"But, what will _they_ do with him?" I shook my head, "**No**, you can't let this happen."

"It's out of my hands now." Arkham sighed, "They filed for a transfer this afternoon and it looks like he'll be moved to Blackgate within the next few days."

I stared at him in utter shock and confusion, and Arkham shook his head.

"I realize this must be hard for you to accept, but the Joker is no longer your patient. As of 6 pm Saturday night, he is an inmate of Blackgate Penitentiary."

I took this in, wringing my hands in my coat pockets. This couldn't be happening. "What will they do with him?" I asked again, finally looking back up at Arkham.

He met my gaze steadily and steepled his fingers before him, "Well, Dr. Quinzel, I assume they will treat him like any other mass murderer. He will be moved to Blackgate prison where he will be punished for multiple homicide and a long list of other crimes, and put on death row where he belongs."

"What?" I exclaimed angrily, "You can't be serious! He needs rehabilitation, not to be put to sleep like an animal! He needs to be _here_!"

"Harleen, let's not kid ourselves. That monster was _never_ going to change, no matter how many therapists we gave him, he's simply too far gone. This institution would never be anything more than a holding cell." He sighed, "Would it really be so bad if he wasn't here anymore? Think of the peace it will give the people of Gotham to know that he's no longer a threat."

My fists tightened until my knuckles had turned white and I simply stared back at him. Seeing this, Arkham held up a placating hand.

"Now Harleen, don't worry, this isn't the end for you. I think you've proven yourself as a reliable and clear-headed woman here. I will personally find you a case that you can be proud of. Someone high-profile perhaps?"

"That won't be necessary, sir." I said between my teeth, then turned on my heel. Reliable and clear-headed? I could almost laugh. "Now if you'll excuse me."

I hurried down the hall before he could stop me, heading for my usual hiding place. My office was just so quiet and secure, it let me clear my head and breathe again, if only I could get to it.

The Joker was going to Blackgate where he would be sentenced to death by electrocution or worse. I could hardly wrap my head around it. He had seemed so unstoppable before. How was it possible that he was going to die then? Would it really happen?

Something in my chest tightened at the thought and I grit my teeth, hurrying for the dark quiet of my office to hide for the next hour and think.

* * *

**Moving right along now. Well, things are starting to get interesting now. I'm all excited.**

**Let me know what you think.**


	9. Night Shift

**Just a warning to those who read this within the first couple hours of its publishing, I went back and rewrote a bit of it and changed some things around. Enjoy.**

* * *

I was just leaving a particularly tedious case in the evaluation room when Arkham swept up beside me like a great, old bird and took my arm. His dull, grey eyes met mine, and I assumed he tried to convey some form of negative emotion, but I was too lost in my thoughts to care much what it was and simply pulled from his grasp.

"If you wouldn't mind…" I murmured, clutching at the two syringes of sedatives in my pocket because there were only so many people he would come to speak with me about personally, and I didn't want to hear about some of them.

It had been two days since he'd given me the news. Two days since I'd found out that the Joker was being carted off to his death by the week's end. A death for the purpose of pleasing the people _only_; as if this was Rome and he was to be fed to the lions for their entertainment. I could even see Arkham, face rosy from too much wine, lifting his downward pointing thumb as half naked women fed him grapes. He would make a great, heartless dictator, I'd think. He liked issuing commands and was never bothered by silly little things like morality. What was the death of a patient now that he wasn't making him _money_?

The Joker had been called a monster by those who did not take the time to understand him. He was frightening and intense and thousands of other things when the moods struck him, and all his doctors and the people working with Blackgate and the DA couldn't see passed the show. He liked to _pretend_. To make things more interesting for himself when they would otherwise be monotonous and dull. He required change, even in its smallest form, to continue. How else could one like him survive in a place like this? A place where everything was set to a rhythm that never changed.

"Really Harleen, I realize you're angry, but I'm trying to speak to you." Arkham huffed to my right, finally pulling me back from my thoughts before they could spiral off into heartbreak and guilt that I was just as much a part of the Joker's death as anyone here.

"What is it, Jeremiah?" I asked with a heavy sigh.

He stared at me a long moment, trying to gauge my emotions as he did everyone else, but I was far too withdrawn now. I had closed all of those doors to stop from feeling like a murderer, for as much as it helped.

"I know that you don't agree with this situation," he began and already I felt the urge to wring his old, mushy neck. "but sometimes we lose. It isn't worth it to pout, there's nothing you could have done."

"Pout?" I repeated, but he continued on as if I hadn't spoken.

"You will have other cases that fascinate you, I promise, but you must move passed _this_ one. Use it to-"

"Did you really stop me for this pep talk?" I asked before I could stop myself. The acid in my tone must have caught his attention, because he straightened and the amiable smile he'd forced vanished.

"No." he said stiffly, back to his usual self. "As you know, the Joker has been moved to one of our holding cells to prepare for tomorrow's transfer. Considering the situation, I wouldn't ask you to do this, but all of Gotham is watching now. We mustn't be anything but professional."

I rested my forehead in my hand with a heavy sigh. "What are you talking about?"

"I need you to speak with him one last time, Harleen. You must officially explain the situation and what it means for him. It won't be recorded, but there will be an official from Blackgate here to witness that it has been done."

For a long moment, I stared at him, but after a deep breath and reining back the urge to rip off his arm and beat him to death with it, I nodded.

"Fine." I said, and stormed off without him. I couldn't refuse, not with so many people watching.

A tiny voice in the back of my head whispered that this was the last time I would ever see him and I grit my teeth crushing it back down. He was a maniac and no matter how much he thrilled me with his intellect and oddity, I couldn't see him as anything but. I couldn't let myself care for him when he was about to die.

The special wing used for high security transfers was underused. Not that I thought that a bad thing, it was more a testament to our facility really. The Joker marked the first of our patients to be taken away since the cannibal killer in '83. That was quite an achievement, and how did we celebrate?

By throwing away the one patient who could put this institute back on the map.

Someone was yelling when I got to the Joker's cell. Picking up the pace, I turned the corner just in time to see an armed guard tumbling out of the steel door and onto the tile with a curse. The doctors and orderlies went into a panic, mobbing forward to lift the man up and pull him away while he came up with curses I would have never dreamed of.

As he was dragged into a folding chair I noticed his leg, the ankle sitting at an odd angle. The guard, a man named Chris Sessoms if memory served, was also cradling an arm. His eyes were narrowed with hatred when he lifted them back to the steel door, closed by the doctors.

"Somebody just _shoot_ the fuck! It ain't like he gets a better option." Then he was yelling to make sure the Joker heard him, "AT LEAST A BULLET TO THE BRAIN WOULD BE QUICK! It's more than he _deserves_!"

"You shouldn't talk so much." I said, touching his shoulder and squeezing a bit harder than I'd intended to. "You've just had an accident, try to remain calm."

"Accide…are you fucking _high_? That son of a bitch just _broke my leg_ with his **bed**."

"Maybe you fell." I said while the others around me chattered like birds. The guard stared at me in utter disbelief then turned to see if anyone else had heard me, but they all seemed to be mumbling to one another.

"What are you?" I asked when we'd gotten more attention, "260? Maybe more."

He scowled, "Something like that."

"And that 160 pound man just beat you up?" I titled my head and the doctors went into more mumbles at Chris's expense, "Are you sure you didn't fall."

"Listen bitch-"

"That's enough."Arkham's voice boomed from behind me and the guard ducked his head like the good little dog he was. I stepped back, crossing my arms and eyeing the steel door. "Harleen if you wouldn't mind-"

"On it." I smiled and hurried to the cell.

"No I meant-"

But the door closed behind me before I heard what he'd intended, not that I cared. My concern now was on the man making my life so much more difficult than it used to be. What the hell was he trying to pull here? I just wanted everyone to see that he was manageable and he attacks the first guard sent to check on him? God, I wanted to smack him.

His smile spread wide as I stepped into the 8 by 8 foot cell. He sat, very calmly on the folded down cot against the back wall while I shut the door. I let him stare at me for a long moment, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring back.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, with more than a little edge to my voice. It wasn't that I was really angry with him, just the situation, and I couldn't hold back the aggression. After all, if he'd only showed the other's before me that there was something more than a sociopath in his head, he might not be in this situation at all.

"Well, I'm sitting here. Starring at _you_." He replied as if it were painfully obvious. "Nice skirt by the way, so professional…and _tight_." Then his black gaze slid downward and his smile became just a touch wicked. "You have such long legs, Doc. They'd look wonderful wrapped around-"

"Stop it." I snapped, a touch louder than I'd intended. The Joker met my eyes with a little chuckle at my expense then nodded slowly.

"Whatever you say, Harls."

I didn't want to waste time, and being in here with him was making me feel terrible. So, with a deep steadying breath, I continued. "Why did you attack your escort? What could that _possibly_ accomplish? Mike is new here, Mr. J, he doesn't need to worry about what you will do to him every day he comes to work, but he's the only one qualified now that you've put Sessoms in the hospital."

The clown licked his lips, letting his eyes wander boredly off to the side before returning to me with slightly raised eyebrows. "Well, Doc, to tell the truth, it didn't **do** _anything._ Then again, I don't suppose I need much now, seeing as they'll put me in the chair next week. Or haven't you heard?"

My mouth went instantly dry and I narrowed my eyes to cover my initial emotions. "Don't give me that. I know better than to think death frightens you…but who told you?"

He shrugged, stretching his arms up above his head before resting his head back against them. "Word of mouth, doc. Gossip is like currency in this place…not that I pay for anything anyway."

I didn't really know what to say after that. I'd come in here to…what? What did I think_ this_ would accomplish? Seeing him again only made his death more real. Was there something I could have done? Some way I could have helped convince the others that I was at least getting through to him. That we could have built on progress later.

I stared at him a long moment in the silence, and he seemed content to let me gander. I looked at the way he sat, relaxed against the wall, head resting back in his hands. He was confident and collected, no sign that he feared the chair any more than this asylum. He didn't seem to fear _anything_ and he didn't need **me** to reassure him, so I didn't.

In that moment, I made a decision. If he could handle it, then so could I. What other choice was there? Aside from breaking him out of the asylum I was at a loss, and that wasn't even close to an option. So I'd stop "pouting" and let this play out whatever way it would. When the Joker was taken from me, I would be the very embodiment of professionalism and then one day when I was old and finally accepted that I would never find his equal, I'd get over it.

Whatever passed over my face made the Joker frown and sit straight in his seat. He began to speak, but I hurried over him.

"I've come to tell you that you will be transferred tomorrow. Blackgate Penitentiary is readying your cell. As of now I am still your therapist, but that changes the moment they come for you."

He watched me for a moment, a sort of disappointment coloring his expression, though I couldn't be sure. He could have been considering my death in a thousand different scenarios, I couldn't tell the difference.

"So that's _it_?" He asked, leaning forward on his cot, "Somebody comes along, steals your favorite toy and kicks down your sand-castle, and you're just going to _take_ it?"

"There's nothing that can be done."

"This is _your_ sandbox, Harley." He titled his head, eyes narrowing meaningfully, "There's **always **something."

Here, I felt as if I'd deflated, and I wrapped my arms around myself. "What do you _want_ from me? What can you possibly get from me? Do you really think I'm going to give up my career to save you? Is that what this is?"

He didn't answer, just stared at me blankly and let me rave.

"We're **done**. I gave you the chance to stay in my care and you ruined it with bullshit like that!" I pointed at the door, where the guard could still be heard cursing up a storm. "Why couldn't you just…" but the words trailed away as I realized they were only for me. That he didn't care and probably wasn't even really listening.

Someone knocked on the door, but I didn't answer it. Instead I breathed a weary sigh and shook my head. "I can't help you anymore. Even if I wanted to."

The Joker titled his head at that, the corners of his mouth lifting into a knowing smile, "But you do, _don**'**_**t** you."

It wasn't a question, and I didn't know how to respond. The door opened then for Arkham and a group of men in suits, one of which I recognized from the news report on the Joker's transfer. He worked in Blackgate and was a strong advocate of the death sentence. He'd told the people not to fret, that Gotham would be safe when the Joker was made to ash and jellied brain matter. Seeing him in the room now, so close to the Joker was too much. I closed my eyes just a moment to check for any tears, seeing as they liked to surprise me, and straightened, turning to Arkham.

"I've informed him of the situation," I said levelly, "Now if you don't mind, I have other cases to tend to. Good evening."

I didn't look at the Joker as I left, telling myself that it would only hurt more later if I did. I was doing what I had to, even if I hated it. He would just have to understand. And if he didn't…well, that wouldn't matter for much longer anyway.

My gut knotted at the terrible thought and I hurried to the elevator and my office. My quiet, safe office. I locked the door and sat down at my desk, pulling out an old case file and flipping through the pages without really seeing them. The knot tightened until I couldn't breathe and I leaned down over my desk, resting my head in my hands and closing my eyes. My head was pounding, and everything was too bright, so I remained curled there.

It would be ok. I would live through this and the guilt would subside.

That was my mantra as I drifted off to sleep.

**XxX**

The lights were out when I woke up, telling me I'd slept well passed my working hours and into the night shift. The illuminated red numbers of my desk clock flickered 12:48. With a weary curse, I dragged myself up from the chair and stuffed the case file back into its drawer, jumping as the metal filing cabinet slammed.

"Ugh…I need real sleep." I grumbled to myself, checking to see that my hair was still tightly bound and presentable just in case I should run across another employee on my way out. Not that I was particularly worried about my outer appearance, but there were already rumors about my loosing it. (The Joker was right, gossip _was_ currency here) I didn't need bedhead being mistaken for insanity.

Outside my office, things were much more alive then I'd anticipated. Orderlies shuffled about and some of the nurses seemed to escorting patients to…where? What the hell was going on? These patients should have all been sleeping, or at least locked in their cells. Who the hell had ordered this?

I hurried down the hall into the main wing were most of the non-violent patients were kept. The majority were still in their cells, but by the looks of them all watching the others with curiosity. They obviously had no idea what this was either.

I recognized a young nurse named Kate near the opposite end of the hall talking in a hushed but insistent voice to a tall man standing in front of her. She motioned to the others emphatically then pointed at him while he walked at a leisurely pace away from her. Whatever he said, she didn't like, because she began with the pointing again and they both disappeared around the corner. I hurried across the hall, eyeing the scattering of inmates that was milling about with their chaperones and hoping they were all from low security. When I rounded the corner I found the patient sitting in a metal folding chair arms crossed while Kate seemed to be desperately trying to get him back up.

"Kate." I nodded to her and glanced at her patient, who ducked down his head to cover a smile with his tangled dark bangs. It didn't stop me from recognizing him though.

"Dr. Quinzel." She said, with just enough reverence in her voice, that I felt a tiny shudder of pleasure. "I didn't know you were working this late."

"Neither did I." My attention remained on Crane who finally sat back in his chair and smiled mischievously up at me. I must admit, it was a bit unnerving to see Jonathan smile so brightly, especially when his cold blue eyes were glinting. He knew something I should have, and whatever it was I was too late to stop. Jonathan was nothing if not a cautious monster, he would never gloat if he didn't know he'd already won.

He'd learned his lesson since his run-in with the Batman.

"Can you explain to me what exactly is going on?" I asked, my voice going sharp with my growing trepidation. Kate jumped right in to explain though eager to let help me however she could. So this is what it felt like to be Arkham.

Duly noted.

"Arkham is prepping for the Joker's transfer. We need to get all of the patients to a more secured section of the hospital in case of complications."

"She means if he tries to escape." Crane interjected far too cheerfully. "Or if someone blows a hole in the asylum again."

"Like you?" I snapped, glaring at him. Crane arched a brow at my tone and chuckled to himself, glancing off down the hall and not seeing what was in front of him.

"I don't recall ever doing that. In fact, I distinctly remember being admitted_ before_ the break out." His brilliant blue eyes snapped back to me and that wicked smile returned. "But I really don't think that is the issue at hand, do you?"

I grit my teeth and turned back to Kate, deciding to ignore him.

"So let me get this straight. You're moving all the patients in the middle of the _night_ while the staff is at its _smallest_. On whose authority exactly?"

"I do believe she's catching on, Doctor." Crane murmured, watching her as if he were studying rats.

Kate glanced at him with a frown, then looked back at me, her eyes huge as dinner plates. "The order came straight from Dr. Leland, ma'am."

"Joan?" I repeated slowly, looking at her and hoping that she understood how incredibly stupid I thought she was. _And_ that she should forget about that promotion next month, if she didn't get canned for this, which I would_ strongly_ encourage.

"Oh, come now Katherine," Crane flashed her his charming best. "Don't be shy. Who told you _personally_?"

"Well...um..that PO. Mitch…Mark…"

"Mike." Crane supplied crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair to get comfortable.

"Yeah!" Kate rushed on, "Mike, he told me the order was from Dr. Leland. When I questioned him he said it was standard procedure."

"By questioned she means _mindlessly obeyed the authority_." Crane grinned, then titled his head in thought at her, "Not even an _authority_ really, not to you. Though I suppose being such a weak, spineless little thing, anyone big enough to push you over would be your superior."

"_Enough_ Jonathan." I snapped, making Kate jump before she realized what had just been said and turned wounded, misty eyes on Crane.

"Why are you being so mean?" she said in a pitiful voice. Really, how had she even gotten the job here? Were they just handing out the positions these days?

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten," he said, leaning back again to watch me in an unflinching way that made me feel small. The way the Joker could make me feel when he stared me down. "She entertains the idea that we are friends."

"But..I thought." Kate sniffled like a two year old, "You were so nice."

At this, Crane put on a soothing smile and reached out to take her hand, though she flinched at the contact. "No, darling. I try not to ally myself with those whose intelligence resembles that of a _sponge_."

"Stop it, Jonathan." I said slapping his hand down and pulling the emotionally traumatized nurse away from him. "He's not on his medication Kate. It makes him-"

"Truthful?" he supplied, holding up his hands when I narrowed my eyes on him.

"_Malicious_." I corrected, then turned Kate so that I could stare her down. She'd been manipulated by her first inmate, but she'd live and I didn't have time to baby her anymore. "So you're telling me that you took orders on this institute's '_standard procedure'_ from its_ newest_ employee?"

Kate closed her eyes and gave a heavy resigned sigh. "Everyone did." She said as if it made it ok that she wasn't the _only_ idiot who needed firing.

"Mike." I said to myself, nibbling on my lip. "But he's…"

"Pardon me, Harleen, dear, but do you happen to know the time?"

I turned to Crane ready to hit him, but Kate spat it out before I could begin.

"1 o' clock exactly." She said, starring at Crane as if he were a boyfriend that had just dumped her and she desperately wanted it to be a lie. I mean, really, the man was attractive, what with his big blue eyes, thick lashes and charming intelligence, but come _on._ If anyone on the planet was more obviously full of themselves it was Jonathan.

Crane smiled at that, and unfurled himself from the chair, reaching beneath the seat. He withdrew what looked like a watch, which had been taped up under the metal. Someone had hidden something for him and I had a pretty damned good idea what it was.

"Put it down, Jonathan." I said taking a step back as he swiftly secured the thing to his wrist, smiling all the while. He'd been acting so different tonight, but I understood it now. He wasn't on his medications, probably hadn't been for a while now, and this wasn't_ Jonathan _anymore. It was the other him, the cruel one.

Well...cruel_er_.

"Mr. Crane, please don't make me call the POs." Kate said, then sucked in a breath when he turned his cold gaze on her.

"No, I don't believe that will be necessary," he stepped toward us and Kate remained frozen in place, eyes wide and fearful. "They're going to have their hands full very soon. You mustn't bother them."

I saw Kate reach for her alarm beeper, (a must have for all personnel who spent time alone with the patients…I'd lost mine months ago) and watched Crane's smile widen, his arm raising. It was too late to do anything for her when the cloud of white dust exploded into the air, hitting Kate full in the face, but I managed to jump back and cover my mouth with the thick sleeve of my coat.

For a moment there was only coughing, and then Kate's eyes were wide again and she looked around as if lost, mouth opening in a scream so loud it hurt my ears. Crane seemed unconcerned by any of this and turned to a large potted plant near the chair. While Kate crumpled to her knees, he dug down into the dirt and pulled out a paper bag, shaking it off with a frown. I stared, unable to do much of anything in my current state of shock. Kate had begun to speak, but the words were too high and broken by tears to understand. She covered her eyes, shaking her head endlessly and continued to rave on.

"Now, Harleen. Here is your choice." Crane had returned with the bag, pulling out a lump of burlap and discarding the paper with a smirk. I glanced at the mask he'd worn to torture patients when he was my mentor, then back to his face.

"You can remain here, stop me, and protect sweet, innocent Katherine, though I must tell you truthfully, she is beyond saving," he pushed a button on the inside of his mask, "_Or _you can make your way to the holding cells and stop **him**."

"I..but."

Crane grinned, moving behind Kate and taking hold of her hair. She shrieked, but he ignored it, seeming to have no trouble with keeping her subdued despite his thin frame. "Time is wasting doctor. Who do you think is _worse _for this city? Me, or that _monster_?"

"Damnit." I spat and backed away from him, toward the elevator.

"That's what I thought." He grinned, then lifted his burlap mask to pull it on and turn his attention to his nurse. "Now, Katherine, be a dear and tell me," he yanked back her head as the mask was put into place and upon seeing him, the girl began screaming again. "What are you _afraid_ of?"

I heard the last words through the distortion of his mask and knew the poor, drugged girl would be petrified by the demonic voice, but I couldn't help her now. They'd drawn the attention of all the other patients and nurses anyway. Hopefully whatever was happening wouldn't start until the Joker got out, which I wouldn't allow, and someone back there would save her from Scarecrow before he broke her completely. I knew from the reports during the narrows gas scare that concentrated doses, if not treated promptly could cause permanent damage as they had with Carmine Falcone. I hoped it didn't come to that with Kate, I would hate to have to treat admit her.

With an odd burst of determination (which felt somewhat misplaced), I quickened my pace. I couldn't let the Joker escape, even if I'd entertained the thought before this. I was still a respectable doctor, rising in my field and this was _my_ hospital. I'd fought to work at this institute and I couldn't let him make us into anymore of a laughingstock. I couldn't let him escape a punishment that was, if not deserving, _necessary_.

"I want a fucking raise." I growled to my reflection as I jumped into the elevator and headed for the Joker's new wing as quickly as I was able. I wasn't going to let him go_ anywhere_.

A scream tore out of the hallway, echoing down to me as the elevator doors closed filled with terror and pain. A shudder passed down my spine and I stuffed my hand in my pocket, pleased to find the capped sedatives from this morning still there. Apparently no one had made it to poor Kate in time, but I sure as hell wouldn't be late.

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**So this chapter was long as crap. I hope you enjoyed it. It's been a chore writing this bit because I've had the next chapter written for so long and I've been killing myself over the bits in between. Now it's time to go back through it and change the things that need tweaking( the details that were left out or added late) and then the next bit should be up. **

**I'm all excited, but I think this 4000 + chapter should tide you over till then. This chapter marks the beginning of the big changes in Harley life. TeeHeeHee...yay!**


	10. JellO Girl

**And now the fun starts. YAY!**

**Forgive the mistakes you'll no doubt find, if you can. I wrote this so quickly and just rushed to post it. Hopefully I'll have the edited copy done by tomorrow.**

**As always, enjoy and leave me your thoughts.**

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It seemed that all staff on hand was on the first floors with Crane. No officer at the security desk, no cleaning crew. I was alone, and under the circumstances, I viewed the open, sterile hallways as the setting to a horror movie. And wouldn't you know it, here I was alone, unarmed and _blonde_. A perfect recipe for the first hapless victim.

Great.

On the other hand, no security meant I didn't have to flash credentials to get into the wing I wanted, which saved time, but brought up a question. Even if the patients needed transfer, even under-staffed, _someone_ would be guarding _this_ floor, of all of them. Anyone who worked here would know that if the Joker escaped, it would come down on all of us, so why the hell would anyone risk it?

I stopped at the corner that led to his hallway. Leaning around just far enough to get a look down the hall, I saw Mike. The PO was bent in front of the Joker's cell door digging through a dufflebag. He seemed rather intent on the task, and I figured this would be my best chance to surprise him, so I kicked off my shoes and rounded the corner. Despite my best efforts, my heart beat heavily in my chest, so loud I feared that he must hear it, but Mike remained at his duffle bag.

Halfway down the hall I dug into my coat pocket, grasping the syringe and uncapping it with my thumb. Mike grunted, tossing out a shirt and pants. Quickening my pace, I noticed the Arkham security logo on the front of the shirt. He was going to give it to the Joker and walk him out during the panic as staff.

Well, not _today_ buddy.

I slowly pulled the needle from my pocket, raising it to aim for his jugular, and poised to leap at the end of my run. Mike chose that moment to stand and kick the bag against the wall with a curse. Just as I'd made it behind him, he turned, jolting back.

He spotted the needle before I could stab him, snatching my wrist and jerking me close enough to grab. With a firm hold on my work blouse, Mike took the time to inspect the needle. He scowled at it then at me and sighed heavily.

"You weren't 'sposed to be here, Doctor." He twisted my wrist until I dropped the needle, "That was the _point_, no one was 'sposed to be. What are you doing here?"

I struggled to get free, clawing at his hand, but he grabbed that one too. This however left my legs open, and I needed that syringe.

"Well," I began, glancing around nervously while he stared at me as if I were stupid. I dragged on the silence, watching his annoyance grow. A few more stammers popped out of my mouth and the PO sighed, rolling his eyes. At the same time, he relaxed his posture just a bit, too irritated to see me as a threat.

My knee to his groin helped proved otherwise.

Mike went down with a wheeze, folding into himself on the floor. I followed him down, but only to snatch up the syringe and jam it in his arm. I didn't bother with niceties like checking for air bubbles or drawing blood first. Instead the sedative rushed into his bloodstream, he called out something non-coherent, and then began drifting off. It didn't happen instantaneously, so he reached for me as I passed, but it was clumsy and easily avoided. My focus was now on the cell door.

The _unlocked_ cell door.

What if he'd already gotten out? What if Traitor Mike was meant to catch up? I couldn't take the chance, and the holding cell here had a primitive steel door. There was no nifty little window to peek into. I had no choice but to open the damn door and check myself, hoping to god that if he _was_ inside, he didn't kill me.

With this in mind, I uncapped the second needle, thankful again that my earlier case hadn't required it. At the very least I could stick him and call for _reliable_ security, like Aaron Cash, to high-tail it back to the institution before he woke up again. This thought, however reassuring, was not enough to make me comfortable with going in that cell unarmed. Unfortunately, Mike's firearm was nowhere in sight which posed a duel threat in my mind. If he was inside, what if _he_ was armed?

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I moved the hand with the needle behind me, out of sight, and pushed open the door. It had been designed this way to stop a patient from bursting out on you, something that worked in my favor now. It didn't stop the trembling. Then again, I doubted anything really could at this point.

It was lights out for patients, which meant his cell was dark. Too dark for me to see inside of it, or where he was hiding, but he unfortunately could see me. I screamed when the weight of him slammed against me, and we both hurtled out of the cell, landing on Mike and rolling away. He recovered first, jumping back to his feet while I scrambled to do the same.

"Doctor?" he asked as he grabbed my lab coat, hauling me up onto my knees by it. "Well isn't_ this_ a surprise!"

"I guess that makes us equal." I said through my teeth, swinging my sedative-armed hand toward him. The Joker caught it with little effort, laughing when he spotted the needle and snatched it away.

"_This_ was your plan?" he asked, and I couldn't help but feel a little insulted by his tone.

I yelped pitifully when he surged forward, throwing me back against the wall and pinning me there with his forearm across my throat. I grabbed his arm, yanking without progress and tried to melt into the wall. Anything to get just a _little_ distance. This had happened too fast, I was still reeling and **now**, on top of it all, I was terrified.

_You wanted him to touch you, Harl's. How's this?_

The mocking voice stirred anger, but it was only enough to regain a little composure and meet the psychopath's eyes levelly. A challenge in itself.

"How did you plan to surprise me, Doctor, or had you not worked that part out yet?"

"No plan." I replied evenly. He'd given me enough leeway to breathe and speak, which was good for now. At least I wasn't suffocating. "Just kinda rolled with it."

A smile crept over his face at that, and he tilted his head to regard me with an expression I couldn't translate. For a moment we remained in silence, simply starring at one another and then I felt the prick in my leg. The bastard had stuck the needle into my thigh, applying pressure to my throat when I began to struggle.

"No!" I managed to choke out, under his weight, but he only hushed me.

"_Sh sh sh_. Re_lax_. I won't put you out **all** the way." He stopped the flow of chemicals just over halfway and slipped the needle out again, wiping away the tiny oozing of blood with his thumb. The rest of the sedative was emptied onto the floor beside us where it couldn't be used against him. The needle, he threw down the hall.

"I've just had an _amusing_ idea."

I didn't respond, too busy working through the thick, heavy wave that had rushed over my body. I felt gelatinous, as if my bones had been replaced with lead, but the rest was pliable as dough. My head dropped under the sudden weight, rolling to the side, but he released my throat to lift it up.

"Stay** awake** now, Doc. I know you're_ little_, but that shouldn't have been enough to drop you."

"Why did you…" I tried to shake away the haze, only managing to make myself dizzy with the movement.

"We can chat later." He said moving to Mike's bag and letting me droop down the wall again. I watched him dig a moment, laughing happily at whatever he found inside, then move to the clothes.

The man had no shame and quickly stripped from his orange jumpsuit and regulation cotton shirt, throwing them to the ground. He was lean of course, but tighter than I'd imagined, in fantastic shape for one who'd been wasting away in a mental hospital. For a moment, I could only stare at him, close to naked and glancing at me from time to time, but there was no time to process the feeling that swept through me at the sight.

Instead, I tried to stand, managing to lift myself a foot before collapsing again. The Joker laughed and turned his back on me, now in the supplied, black cargo pants and reaching for the shirt. I scowled, clenching my fists at my helplessness, and wanted to smack him. Instead, I gathered the strength I could, and tried again. This time, I managed to hold myself steady, though my legs wobbled beneath me, threatening to give at any moment. With the help of the wall, I stood completely, then wondered what exactly I planned to do now that I had.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _I raged internally, trying to maneuver myself toward the bad and Mike's radio. With it I could at least signal the officers on duty. _Someone_ had to do something. This had been a mistake. A _terrible, idiotic_ mistake. Now he was going to kill me and I barely had the strength to put up a fight.

The Joker hummed to himself as he pulled on his shirt, turning to Mike's unconscious form beside him with a tsk. He kicked the PO onto his stomach and knelt down to strip off the man's jacket. It was too big, like the other clothes, which I assumed were Mike's extras, but it gave him the appearance of extra weight. At first glance he looked like someone else entirely. I'd made it to the bag by now, but the Joker was already moving toward me. With a gentle shove, I fell back against the wall, wobbling unsteadily long enough for him to grab something out of the duffle bag and turn back to me.

"Come one, Doc. Time's a waistin'."

"What are…you can't.."

He smiled, wide and malicious, and grabbed my upper arm, dragging me closer on my unstable feet and throwing my arm around his shoulders.

"We can argue about it later." He said, stepping over Mike and pulling me along with him. He was strong enough to support my weight and move quickly, which baffled me since he seemed so thin. Then again, I didn't put much thought into it, what with the growing nausea that came with sudden movement.

His arm was around my waist, and I felt him slip something heavy into my coat pocket, but only got a glimpse of it. The two metal prongs had given away as Mike's issued taser. _Great. _As my head rolled bac a moment I caught sight if the mounted camera at the end of the hall. Was no one watching? Shouldn't somebody have sounded an alarm by now?

"Alright Doc, where's the nearest supply closet?"

We were moving, and I could hardly keep up with the weight of the sedative in my veins. "The what?"

"_Sup-__**ply**__ clo-se__**t**_." He repeated, giving me a little shake to keep me focused.. I couldn't even see strait anymore.

"Down…down there" I motioned vaguely toward our right and he was off again, dragging me toward a small door with a plate sign on its right. I didn't get a chance to read what it said before he'd opened the door and released me.

Without his support, I hit the ground hard and groaned, clutching my head. The Joker ignored me and went straight to the cabinet at the far side of the tiny room. This wasn't a supply closet, so much as the nurse's station. I watched a fuzzy Joker grab things off the shelves and finally break into the cabinet to rummage through it, hating by the way my vision swam in and out of focus.

Oh this was just _wonderful_.

With his pockets full, the Joker grinned again and turned back to me. He was about to say something, when one of the dozen white bottles in the cabinet caught his attention. He snatched it, read the label and chuckled, slipping it into my pocket before lifting me back to my feet again.

I stumbled along beside him as he took us to the elevator but he didn't head for the lobby. We got off on the floor above it, meeting no one as we continued on. I hoped that someone would see us, maybe take the Joker down long enough for me to get away. He didn't seem very worried though, in fact we seemed to be getting closer to the _security_ room.

"What are you…" but my words were slurring and soft. The Joker bounced me back up against his shoulder and giggled as we stood outside the security door.

"Just a little fun, Doc. Don't worry." His tone, however, suggested otherwise.

Pulling my arm up around his shoulders he opened the door and slipped his hand into my left pocket where he'd stashed the taser. There were two guys in the room; both seemed completely involved in a porno they were playing on one of the surveillance screens. No wonder no one had sounded the alarm. These bastards hadn't even seen the Joker escape!

I opened my mouth to warn them, after all I couldn't just sit here, but the Joker's right hand slipped over my mouth and he shook his head.

"No, Harley dear. Let _me_ do the talking."

The guards jumped from their chairs at once, panicking when they saw who the quirky voice belonged to.

"Dr. Quinzel?" the first asked, "Are you hurt?"

The Joker chuckled, giving me a pat on the cheek while my head rolled forward from the weight.

"Oh don't worry, Jr. She's just a little overworked, the poor thing." I felt his hand curl around the taser in my pocket and forced myself to look up.

"Get…"I tried at first, while both men raised their very real guns in our direction. What came after was a wheeze and the Joker's amused little half-smirk, I grit my teeth and nodded toward the alarm button. "_Help_."

"Let the doctor go." The second guard said narrowing his eyes. Neither understood or cared what I was saying and were now ignoring me.

The clown was loving it, though, the _fucker_. He giggled, drawing his right arm tighter around my waist and giving it a squeeze for their benefit. The guards scowled, cocking their weapons in sync and the first glanced back at the control panel. Maybe the idiot had heard me after all.

Everything went crazy after that. The Joker laughed, long and loud, deafening me and shoved me to the side. I spun and landed hard on the floor with a groan, hearing the taser go off just before a gun. One of the guards yelled and something heavy hit the floor. When I'd managed to push myself up enough to see them, the second guard was unconscious on the floor and his partner was backing up against the monitors. Somehow the clown had gotten the second guard's gun.

I felt him pull the trigger before it happened, feeling my stomach drop to the floor as the round exploded from the chamber and caught the first guard in his firing arm. He went down on a knee, clutching the thing to his stomach, but the Joker didn't give him time to retrieve his weapon. He fired twice more into the guard's gut and head, then stepped up to the control panel and kicked him aside.

My head was spinning as I stared at the dead man. I'd never seen a murder before. Never got to watch the light disappear in someone's eyes, like they described in books. It was…_chilling_. He'd gone from alive to something cold and motionless in less than a second. I watched his blood pooling around the ruined bits of skull and brain matter across the floor a long time before I realized that the Joker was looking at the security screen for the door locks in the basement.

"You can't…"I took a deep breath, trying to make sense of what I'd been saying then pushed on. "There are 6 digit codes for each wing and the high sec.._downstairs_ has two."

"I'd realized that, darling." He said distracted as he clacked away on the keyboard, "but _thanks_ for being so helpful."

The red bar across the screen turned green as he fed the first code into the computer and I frowned. Obviously someone had already told him the codes. Damnit. No wonder the asylum got ragged on for its security. We sucked.

"Someone will have heard those shots." I tried again.

"Oh…"he typed in the next code and smiled at the new screen that came up, feeding in cell numbers to unlock each door. "I think they might be a _little_ dis**tr**acted."

After that, talking was really out of the question. I focused on breathing and not looking at the dead man four feet from me. He'd let out all of the high security and was working on the next level up. Oh god, if anyone was hurt this would be my fault! I'd already gotten one man killed, two if the other guard woke up before the Joker was finished. I was an idiot!

On the other hand, the clown was completely focused on his job at the moment and it gave me an idea. The door was still cracked open behind me, if I could make myself move fast enough, I could get away from him and call the police. If anything I could stop him from doing anymore damage.

It was a struggle to stand, even more so to do it quietly, but I got it after a few tries. The Joker was halfway through the second security level when I stumbled toward the door. He didn't even turn around as I fell out into the hall and caught myself against the far wall, too absorbed.

The stairs were out of the question, so I made my way toward the elevator just as the lights flickered and went out. (The Joker's doing, no doubt.) I cursed, falling against the wall and focused on staying conscious long enough to get to the phone in the lobby one floor down. The backup generator kicked on, filling the halls with an ominous red light. (why was it always _red_?) Our elevators ran on the backup as well, for safety's sake, so when I hit the button, it dinged open and I fell inside.

_What have you done, Harleen? _

The doors dinged again as I hit the first floor and I grabbed the support bar to hoist myself back up. As the doors opened, I let my head fall forward again and stepped out, reaching blindly for the wall to keep myself up. Not far now, I just had to get to the front desk.

Then someone groaned.

It was a sound of incredible pain, and when my head snapped back up to find its source, I went still as the statues that decorated the outside walls of this asylum. I saw the form, even through the dim red lights, hunched down over something that seemed to be leaking. I knew it was blood that was leaking from the body, just like I knew who the one above the victim was before he stood.

He'd folded the top half of his jumpsuit down and tied it around his waist, so even in the darkness I could see his scars. God, I'd forgotten how many he had. They covered everything, every inch of skin, even his back, though he must have had trouble with those. And each scar I knew marked a victim, someone he'd killed for no other reason than he pitied them for being _alive_.

My next breath was shaky, and louder than I'd anticipated. He heard me, glanced back and smiled. He wasn't worried that I would run it appeared, because he slowly stood and turned to me. I watched as Victor Zsasz dragged his scalpel across the four tacked lines on his forearm, completing the five mark tally. His smile grew wider the closer he came to me and I sank down against the wall until I'd hit the floor.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Doctor." Zsasz said amiably as he squatted down in front of me, resting his arms on his thighs, and letting his blade dangle in my view. "I was so very displeased when you left me for that jester. Though," he titled his head, dark eyes catching the light like a cat's and reflecting it evilly, "greener pastures I suppose. I never took you for the greedy type, Harleen. I must admit I'm a little disappointed in you."

"H-hello Victor." I swallowed, glancing over at the body that had stopped writhing just moments ago. "I see you've started working again."

Zsasz chuckled, glancing back at the corpse and shrugging. "Yes well, she seemed like such a dour young thing. It was fate that she stumbled across me first. Her liberation reminded me of all the work I could be doing outside."

"You can't leave, Victor."

He laughed, gripping the scalpel a little tighter, and shook his head. "But who will stop me, Doctor Quinzel? Certainly not _you_." He reached out, making me flinch, though he ignored the action and grabbed my chin to lift it up. His hands were slick with what I could only assume was blood and it made me tremble with fear.

"You seem deliciously helpless, my dear. Did someone not take kindly to their medication?" He licked his lips, "Are you in much pain, darling? I can take it all _away_ you know. I promised to save a place for your mark. Do you remember?"

"Of course, Victor." I said, noting the tremor in my voice. He probably loved it. Victor liked me, sure, but in _his_ mind, killing me was the kindest thing he could possibly do.

"Would you like to see where I'll put it, darling?" his grin widened, "Better yet, would you like to choose the place yourself?"

"Oh, come on Victor. I'm sure you've chosen the perfect place already. You've had so much time to think about it." _Keep him talking Harleen. You have to keep him distracted._

Zsasz smiled in a disturbingly proud way and nodded, lifting the scalpel to inspect its edge with the tip of his finger. He didn't even flinch when he'd cut himself, simply watched the blood trickle down his hand.

"Oh yes. I've had _plenty_ of time." His dark, reflective eyes moved back to me and he traced the scalpel up my throat. I stiffened instinctively and managed to pull back until my head hit the wall, but it didn't get me away from the blade. Zsasz drew it down, nicking the flesh and smiled again.

"Don't worry, Harleen, it's just like falling asleep."

"Only painful." I replied. There were tears in my eyes, and if it weren't for the sedative raging through my blood, I would have fought him, but I couldn't even stand on my own anymore.

"Yes, well," Zsasz chuckled, grabbing my hair in his fist and tipping back my head so he could slit my throat, "It only hurts for a moment."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." I said, closing my eyes.

Then there was the very distinct sound of a gun cocking, and they popped open again as Zsasz went still.

"_That_ would imply he **gets** any." It was the Joker, and I had never been happier to see the crazy bastard with a weapon in my life. "This one's taken, _Zoloft_, find your own."

I watched the conflict in Zsasz's eyes. He wanted to kill me regardless, considered it even, but pulled back, holding up both hands as if he were being arrested. The Joker smiled and reached out to slip the scalpel from his hand and into his own pocket. Then he motioned off the serial killer with his gun.

"I'm sure I'll see you again, dearest Harleen." Zsasz said as he stood and stepped away. "I'll keep your place ready for when I do." His hand went to a row of four tallies right above his heart. They were the tally marks of his first and closest victims. In an odd way, I was flattered by this, that I would complete the mark, but at the moment I was more than happy to see him disappear into the darkness of the far hallway.

_Oh god, Victor is loose again. They __**all**__ are._

The Joker crouched down in front of me, taking Victor's place, and stared at me a long moment. Then, without warning, he reached out with the gun and smacked it against the side of my head. It hurt, of course, but it was more surprising than anything else.

"_Bad_ doctor," he scolded me with a frown, "You stay were Daddy _tells_ you. Is that clear?"

I couldn't really answer, too distracted by the gun and the fact that he'd just called himself daddy again. Of all the things. It was starting to really bother me, but at the moment, I was too scared to say anything.

"I'll deal with you later." He sighed, then stood and offered me a hand. "Now get up, _lazy bones_. We have somewhere to be."

"Uggh!" I groaned, letting my head roll forward, the sedative and my recent brush with death were making me exhausted. "Just leave me alone!"

"Now, here's the hard question, Doc, so _pay attention_." He said, ignoring me and dragging me back to my feet.

I let my head loll off to the side, imagining how wonderful it would be to sleep right now. Just curl up on the ground and drift off and-

"_**Harley**_." I jumped at the deep, resonating tone of his voice, heart racing. He was irritated, and seeing as I was currently using him to stand strait, that wasn't good. The Joker grabbed my jaw, turning my face toward him and searched my eyes. The black of his own eyes burned into me and I drew away, though I couldn't really _go_ anywhere.

"Where's the closest exit?" he asked, "Which way?"

For some reason, I found that amusing and giggled. "Shouldn't you know, Mr. Houdini? _You're_ the escape artist."

The corner of his mouth twitched as if in a smile but he growled softly in irritation, leading us back into the hallway.

"Which way?" He asked again, his tone said no-nonsense, so I sighed, head flopping down to rest against his shoulder again.

"Find it yourself." I grumbled, letting my eyes drift closed a second, "_You're_ the mastermind."

He was already moving again, dragging me passed doors and other orderlies who didn't seem to pay us much mind, or maybe they just didn't see us in the dark. I found that hard to believe, then decided that maybe Gotham had been right and Arkham wasn't really secure at _all_.

By the time the alarm sounded, it was too late. The Joker had taken us to the first floor and we were stepping off the elevator. The repetitive drone of the alarm was making my head pound, but I told myself it would be over quickly. We were almost outside.

The Joker's hand on my waist tightened painfully to keep me upright as we hurried down the hallway. I could hear the distant sounds of orderlies and PO's, and hoped again that they would stumble over us. My wish was only half-answered.

"Stop!" the voice was unsure, even if it was loud, and we were suddenly thrown into the blinding beam of a flashlight. The Joker, with a wide grin, turned us around to look at the PO holding up his regulation taser. (Very few of them carried actual guns and none of those men had any contact with the patients unless they were high security.)

"I want you to release Dr. Quinzel and keep your hands where I can see them." The guy was saying. The Joker, however, only smiled pulling out his stolen gun. I opened my mouth to warn the PO, but it was too late.

The Joker fired twice, both rounds going into the PO's knees. The poor man screamed out and crumpled to the ground. The clown slipped the gun into the holster in Mike's stolen pants and pulled out the scalpel he'd gotten from Zsasz. He was slowly accumulating weapons and I didn't _like_ it. The PO groaned, struggling to push himself back up, and the Joker slashed outward.

The blade caught the man across his throat, severing the jugular in a single clean slice. I sucked in a breath of shock and disgust, then stumbled forward as he pulled me down the hall again.

"You…you killed him." I managed to say, fighting hard to remain focused on him. It was becoming harder to stay upright, even with his support. My body was getting too heavy to hold up, and that meant that should he want to turn that blade on me, I would be defenseless. The thought made me tremble.

"He'll be fine." the Joker said distractedly as we came up to the exit door.

"He'll be _dead_."I spat, stumbling a step as we moved outside.

The air was cold enough to shock me into a faltering focus, as we raced into the parking lot, avoiding the streetlights surrounding it.

"Where's your car?" He asked, then frowned at me expression. It didn't matter though, after a short scan of the lot, we were headed toward the shitty old Volvo parked under the streetlight. How he knew which car was mine astounded me, but I didn't ask, top busy fighting my urge to crumple to the ground. Once we'd gotten to it he leaned me back against the door and held out a hand. "Keys?"

I giggled at that, head rolling back onto the roof of my car. "Inside, with my purse, but you're welcome to go _get_ them."

He frowned at that and stepped backwards, disappearing somewhere into the lot as I sank down onto the pavement. God this was a disaster, and I could hardly work up the energy to care anymore. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't do _anything_.

"Watch out!"

I heard the cry right as glass exploded around me. The Joker cackled, appearing above me, and unlocked my door through the shattered window, grabbing my arm and hauling me up to shove me inside. He pushed me into the passenger's seat and slid in himself, grabbing the rock and tossing it into the window of the car beside us for kicks. Then, still laughing to himself, he leaned down to pop off the plastic cover below my steering wheel and pulled out a handful of wires.

"Are you…"I giggled, not knowing why I found it so funny, "You're _hotwiring_ my car?"

He glanced at me from the corners of his dark eyes, and huffed, licking his lips. "Do you have a _better_ idea?"

"You could go back." I suggested with a shrug, then jumped when my car rumbled to life. My fingers were numb, and though I tried to unlock my door, I didn't have the strength to pull up the latch.

Slamming my door closed, the Joker rolled his head to the side to give me a look that said 'are you serious', then he put the car in reverse and stomped down on the gas. I had to grab the _oh shit_ bar above my door to keep from sliding into the dashboard, then when he squealed us into a left turn to leave the parking lot and enter the main road, I actually let out a cry.

"Where are we…" I sank down into my seat, fighting to remain conscious as the Joker drove like he was playing _grand theft auto_. Looking over at me, and completely ignoring the road, he smiled, big and dangerous.

"It's a surprise." He said, then his hand whipped out and grabbed the back of my head, twisting into my hair to get a firm grip. "No _peeking_." He cried, and bashed my head into the dashboard. My body went limp, but I was still conscious and groaned. The Joker giggled and lifted my head back to inspect it.

"_Whoops_," he laughed, "Let me try that again."

The second crack send blinding pain though me, but I was still awake enough to feel sick. With my head spinning, I slumped against the door watching him as best I could through the whirl of motion around me.

"Jesus, you're resilient." He muttered to himself and shifted to grab something out of sight. When I saw it was the gun, I cried out, but he didn't aim it at me as I expected. Instead he held the muzzle and sighed. "Guess we try it this way."

This time, when the butt of the gun cracked against the back of my head, the world went black.


	11. Lights Out

**Holy crap it's been a while, but not by my choice. School is a bitch as they say and she likes to pile things on. I'm trying to find time to write anything, but I decided on this one, because it's been the longest wait. **

**I hope you like it, and I REALLY hope I can't update it sooner next time.**

* * *

The world returned at first, as a droning in my ears. As I slowly rejoined the world, however, it became a pounding in my head. I was on my side, sprawl on…what was this? The memories of what had come before the car ride rushed back and fear settled in its appropriate place.

There was no light in this place. That or I was blind. The former was more agreeable, and I pushed the other back into my head. On top of everything, I couldn't handle losing my sight. Careful to make as little noise as possible, I spread out my fingers to feel the surface beneath me.

Course, hard, it felt like concrete. I was on a floor. Stretching out my other hand I found a wall, and moved to sit against it. Pain like fire shot down my leg, and I went still again a moment to breath. After a few moments of prodding, I found that my hip and upper thigh was bruised, all perfectly aligned with the position I'd woken in.

Floor, plus huge new bruise equaled the Joker being an asshole. He'd dropped me on the floor when he put me in here. Assuming it was him at all, but the thought of some faceless thug carrying me around made my skin crawl.

It took a few minutes, but I managed to work my leg enough that I could crawl over to the wall. A few more and I could stand. Where the hell was I? How long had I been unconscious? I'd seen patients burn through the sedatives in only a few hours, but their immune systems where so used to chemicals that it was like cheating. This wasn't the military; shrinks didn't get dosed with their own chemicals before they could administer them to the patients. I had no idea how long it would have put me under.

Now that panic was added to my emotional cocktail, I tried to focus on finding a door, or window. Something I could get out of. My path was slow, inching my way along the wall and stretching out my hand to feel for obstacles. I nearly ran into what felt like a small table, pushed up against the wall. My fingers scattered whatever had been thrown on it.

The clattering was thunderous. What sounded like metal and a dozen small things tumbled to the floor, echoing around the room. My heart, already pounding with my head, jumped to painful new levels. Someone had to have heard that. Which meant I would have company soon. I quickly dropped to the floor, patting around for the fallen objects, hoping for a weapon. Something cold a thin rolled against my fingers. At its opposite end was a handle. Whatever it was, it had a point and a good grip, so I stuck it in the pocket of my lab coat, which I was thankfully still wearing.

There were heavy footsteps outside, awkward, oddly paced. I don't know why I recognized the sound of his walk, but I knew without a doubt that it was the Joker. He was coming from the direction I'd been headed, so I began to backtrack. At first I was still on the floor, crawling away in panic, but the sound of a deadbolt turning got me back on my feet.

The light from the hall at first was blinding and made my head scream in protest. I dropped my face into my palm with a hiss, before the lights had been turned on in here as well. I still listened though, as those funny footsteps came to a stop and the door was closed again. It hadn't seen outside, it irritated me that I was no closer to know where I was.

"What's up, Doc?" He sounded far too cheerful. Pain, confusion, and fear made my response a little snippy.

"Is this really the time for Bugs Bunny?"

He chuckled, moving closer while I rubbed my eyes and tried not to seem terrified. "It's a classic. I can't myself."

"I've noticed." I snapped, finally dropping my hand. It was hard to see at first, but slowly the room became a solid place again, despite my head.

"Got a bit of a headache there, Harley?" I blinked, trying to see him completely, but the drug seemed to be hanging on to me like a thick fog. Purple, he was in purple. "It's just the sedative, won't last long." He grinned smugly, "Not so fun on this side, is it?"

"I never drugged you." I protested, not really knowing what else to say. I'd never seen him in person with his suit, and frankly it was making all of this a little too real. All hope that this was a nightmare, sadly, vanished.

He wasn't in the overcoat, only the pinstriped suit beneath it, and he'd forgone his infamous gloves. It was impossible not to stare. The suit wasn't some crappy thrift store find either; it was tailored specifically for him. (Which opened a whole new line of questions, the first being who in the hell would tailor for the Joker?) He took pride in his appearance, though not in the same way as most. It was something, though, and I tucked it away for use later.

The Joker continued to watch me, and the silence had stretched on for far too long. I began to feel small, and cornered under his black gaze. I needed some place to sit down before I fell over. He didn't seem to be armed, though I didn't know what was in the paper bag in his hand, but I turned around to search for a surface…

And found a bed.

For a moment, I could only stare at it, then at him and I clenched my fists, moving toward it a sitting down to put more distance between us. Unfortunatly, he followed slowly behind. Still watching. Still smiling like he had a secret.

"I woke up on the floor." My tone was more acidic than I'd meant, but I couldn't help it. "There was a bed three feet away! You couldn't make the extra effort to throw me down on_ it_ instead?"

He raised both brows, giving a melodramatic, scandaled gasp, "I couldn't have you sleep in _my_ bed, we barely know one another. What would people _think_?"

"_You_ seem to think you're funny." I replied, drawing my knees up to my chest before I realized it was a clear sign that I was frightened. If I put them back down, however, it would have been more obvious, so I fixed my face with a scowl. It was hard to portray disgruntled, when I was so incredibly terrified. I didn't like him this close to me outside of shackles.

Suddenly he knelt down on the bed, close enough that I pressed back into the headboard to keep the distance. It was useless, however, as he simply moved closer.

"Are ya _hungry_?" He surprised me by presenting a paper box of fried rice and a plastic fork from his looked fresh enough, colored pink with what I assumed, and _hoped_, was sweet-and-sour sauce, something I loved. My stomach growled in response to even the thought of food, and I snatched up the box without hesitation. If he was offering, I should eat while I _could_. Who knew what awaited me in this place, locked in with _him_. Who knew if he would even feed me again. I'd just scooped up the first bite and held it at my lips, when I realized he had yet to look away.

I set down the box and placed the spoon into the container with a frown. "Is it poisoned?"

The Joker laughed at that, short and loud, but shook his head. "Now, _what_ would be the purpose of _that_? After I went through _allll_ that** trouble** to get you _here_."

"You didn't answer my question." I said, watching him closely. He was right, it wouldn't make sense, but when had the Joker _ever_ made sense?

Giving me an undecipherable look, he grabbed my fork and scooped up a large bite, chewing frantically and then smiling, despite his full mouth.

"_Satisfied_?" he asked. I shrugged, looking down.

"I suppose."

I watched him scoop another bite, not caring that rice was tumbling all over the mattress, and held it up to me.

"_Choo choo_." He mimicked a train as if I were a child and grinned, "Open _uh-uup._"

I scowled at him, keeping my lips tightly closed, but he only rolled his eyes.

"Ah, come on, Harley-girl. Daddy's _helping_."

I went very still, glancing between him and the spoon. He didn't pull it away, and his eyes seemed to sharpen the longer he starred at me. It was obvious he wouldn't give up, and I wasn't really in a position to refuse. We stared at one another a long time, until finally I opened my mouth and he slid the fork inside. Silently, I prayed he didn't force the utensil down my throat, or break it off in something or…_oh god brain, just stop with the visuals_…only he didn't do any of those things.

He watched me chew, watched me swallow, and met my eyes when I was done with a small, derisive smile. I turned away, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the whole situation, and hating him for doing it on purpose. He was playing with me, the bastard. Was this what I had to look forward to in my future, serving as plaything for this psychotic? A shock of dread went through me. What if there _was_ no future? What if I was already on borrowed time?

The Joker stuck the fork back into the rice, but didn't try to feed me again, which I was grateful for since my face was already burning, and must have been embarrassingly red. The clown pushed the box into my hand, closing my fingers around it and motioned that I continue eating, again making it obvious that it wasn't much of a choice. He continued to watch me as I ate; his eyes took in everything, until I lost my appetite under his scrutiny, and set the box down on the cement brick that served as a side table.

"You're so _**t**__ense_." His voice was softer than normal. It sent a shiver down my spine as he moved closer to me on the mattress, titling his head as if to study me, and as always, there was that tiny beginning of a smile. I focused on his voice however. It was wrong, too calm and…amiable? My body was screaming **danger**.

"Are you telling me I shouldn't be?" I asked, trying my damnedest to keep my voice level with him so very close, in this place where I was _completely_ at his mercy. This time, if he decided to strangle me, there would be no orderlies with sedatives standing by. No panic button to signal the POs to come save me, no cameras. It was just us, and he _knew_ that I was frightened. He was enjoying it.

"I think you should take a deep breath. Let your.._ahem_, **hair** down, as it were."

"Sure," I laughed a little hysterically, "Why don't I just make myself comfortable?"

With that his hand whipped out to tangle in my loose bun, too quick for me to retaliate in time. I managed to cry out, but it was strangled by fear, hardly a cry at all. And who was listening anyway? Where the henchmen outside going to rush to my aid if I started screaming?

_Not likely._

The Joker was smirking at my obvious panic, and pulled me closer. Like a predator sensing a weakness, he just went for it. My breath caught in my throat as he dragged me across the mattress and inches from him. So close I could feel the abnormal heat that radiated from his skin.

_Running hot…__**always**__ running hot._

The thought slipped away as he yanked the clip from my hair, ripping out a few strands along the way, and tossing it onto the floor.

"You know," he said softly, inspecting the change, "I've never seen you with your hair down, Doc. I like it."

"W..what are you doing?" I managed to ask, though my voice was childishly soft and light from my fear.

I cleared my throat and tried gently to pull away, testing my boundaries, but he held firm, tighter even. He was looking at me in a way that made my face flame, and fear twist angry knots in my gut. _Too close, too intimate._ He slid his hand down to my jaw, lifting my face so he could see it closer. His warm fingers traced slowly up to my ear, following the trail they took with his dark eyes. Like two black suns, and they burned my skin as they moved. With his other hand firmly fixed in my hair, I couldn't pull away as he feathered the touch over to my lips. Completely at a loss, I remained rigidly still and simply stared at him with wide eyes.

"You've got something here." He murmured, after what seemed hours, wiping the corner of my mouth and releasing me. He sat back on his knee, still kneeling, and smiled. "_Got_ it."

Something told me he wasn't talking about the tiny smudge of sweet-and-sour on his finger. He wiped it off on the mattress then moved back to his feet looking around the cluttered room, completely absorbed in his next task. I was still frozen in place, heart racing so fast it made my head spin, exciting my headache.

I watched him sift through papers on the makeshift desk a moment, trying to breath normally again, and wondering what exactly he was playing at. Why the hell had he brought me here. Briefly the thought of rape crossed my mind, before I stuffed it back down. The Joker had never done such things, at least as far as we knew. However, I was well aware that he was unpredictable, and judging by what had just happened, I couldn't shake the nagging fear.

Suddenly I was regretting my entire wardrobe. I was a confident girl, yes, but why did I have to express that through my clothing? More importantly, why had I chosen this stupid business skirt, and why was my shirt so tight? I hurriedly pulled my lab coat tighter around myself, but it didn't do much good.

While I silently berated myself, the Joker had moved across the room. I looked up at the sound of the door and found him watching me expectantly.

"Are you just going to _sit_ there all night? Come on Doc, don't you wanna see the rest of the place?" He leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his ankles and grinned wickedly. "I mean, aren't you_ curious_? Lucky girl, how many of my doctors have seen the place I work in?"

"How many of them have you kidnapped?"

The Joker chuckled, pushing off the door to cross the room back to me. On instinct, I moved away, hitting the wall and making a soft noise of panic.

Seeing this, the Joker laughed softly and shook his head. "Geez, Doc. Lighten up would ya? It's like you don't trust me or something?"

His hand whipped out, snatching up my wrist, and yanking me up off the bed. I stumbled into his arms with a strangled yelp, then clamped my mouth shut in fear that it would excite him. Eyes once again bright with that frightening intensity, he tilted his head.

"It's _almost_ as if you think I'm going to **hurt **you."

My arms were trapped between us, bent up against his chest, but I was too scared to attempt pulling away. Instead I swallowed, doing my best to hold his gaze.

"Are you?"

My voice was pathetically soft, but there was no hope of pretending I wasn't terrified now. He stared down at me a long moment with a smile that made my blood run cold, but then stepped back. He turned to the door and began pulling me after him at a quick pace, his fingers around my wrist so tight that I was sure it would bruise.

"Come on, I **know** you're curious, Doc. Why _wouldn't_ you be?"

I stumbled after him, breathlessly, unable to respond. I hadn't missed however, that he didn't answer my question.

Xx


	12. The RunAround

I'm not sure what I had expected when he took me out of the room. Over-sized playing cards, clown memorabilia, maybe even a wall dedicated to his narcissism, but it was just a hallway. The walls and floor were the same as his room. Dirty, dusty, and colored here and there with things I didn't want to inspect too closely. It was an old building wherever it was, and likely in the process of being torn down. The floor was warped in places, littered with trash, which made it a real joy to run behind the Joker in my bare feet. Not that I wanted to be in my heels, but this wasn't really better.

The clown came to an abrupt stop at a cracked wooden door, glancing back at me a moment before shoving it open. The sound of scraping metal chairs echoed out of the room beyond and I heard muffled, urgent voices. They quieted as we entered the room and suddenly I was faced with a room full of starring men. I'd known the Joker employed thugs and that the unstable seemed to flock to him like a crazy messiah, but I wasn't really prepared to be surrounded.

Or the center of attention.

It was clear that the men hadn't expected to see me. They looked between the Joker and me and whispered amongst themselves. I felt like the new girl in a classroom. Only this classroom seemed to be a dilapidated warehouse and my classmates were all murderous criminals. The Joker let them stare and murmur, watching me for my reaction to it all and smiling when I tried to step back through the doorway. His bruising hold on my wrist tightened again and he yanked me forward, wrapping his arm around my shoulders with a great smile.

"Sooo," he began, walking us further into the room. "This is our recreation room, where the boys can play and gossip. Unfortunately, Harley, you haven't earned your privileges yet, so you won't see much of it."

He was talking to me as if I were a new inmate in Arkham. As if this was my mandatory, first day tour of the grounds. I didn't respond though, too occupied by the feel of his thug's eyes and the heat that was enveloping my body where he held us together.

"Harley here is going to be staying with us for a little while." He grinned, starring down at me and I shrunk under his gaze, "I'm sure some of you recognize her."

There were a few murmured affirmations, but I didn't catch any faces with my attention on the clown. The knowledge that there were former inmates here, however, did nothing to settle my nerves.

"Do you want to say hi to the boys, Harley?"

I looked up at him, then around at the starring men, but kept silent. One in particular, sitting on a cracked counter to our left, was smiling. He looked vaguely familiar, but my attention was drawn to the knife he was idly flipping open and closed at his side. When our eyes met, his smile widened and my stomach did a flip.

"She's a little nervous." The Joker mock-whispered to his lackeys and there was a moment of laughter. I felt like an animal in a cage, and these men were the bratty children just waiting to poke at me through the bars. He'd said I was staying a "little while". What did that mean?

I nearly jumped from my skin at the sound of barking, and there was another chorus of laughter from the thugs. The Joker arched his brows before giving my shoulders a squeeze.

"You like dogs, don't cha, Harls? You wanna see mine?"

I wasn't given a chance to answer before he was dragging me across the room by my wrist again and through another door. This one led to a docking garage, made for semi's caring goods. He pulled me down the concrete steps, ignoring me when I stumbled and nearly fell from his brisk pace. Across the huge room, the dogs were barking rabidly, rattling against the chain link fence that had been erected around them. A strange odor wafted toward us but I was too concerned with the animals to bother wondering what it was. The cage was small, maybe 7 feet squared, in total, and I wasn't sure it would hold if the three furious Rottweilers within continued to attack the metal as they did.

"I didn't know you were an animal person." I murmured, swallowing in an attempt to steady my voice.

The Joker shrugged, stopping us a foot or two from their pen. "They were a gift from an old friend. Well…he wasn't using them anymore, and it seemed a waist to kill them. Especially when they were already trained so well."

"Trained for what?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't like the answer, but to curious not to ask. He didn't reply, just turned to eyes on the far corner of the pen with a slight grin, waiting for my attention to follow.

At first, I wasn't sure what I was looking t exactly. It looked as if the Joker had forgone a food bowl and instead thrown the poor things a pile of meat and cloth. It took a moment to register the vague shapes of the mutilated thing, the fingers with bits of meat still clinging to the bone. The ribcage, broken and obviously gnawed on. When it came together, when I recognized the many pieces of what had once been a person, my stomach flipped again and I covered my mouth in horror, watching the flies that circled the carcass and fighting not to vomit.

The Joker had released me know, enjoying the pale caste of my skin and my wide-eyed stare. "I _should _get myself a little pig farm instead, but for now these guys seem to do the trick. They have a real _taste_ for it." I didn't want to hear this, and he knew it, but pressed on regardless. "You have to starve them of course, get em a little _wild_, a little crazy." He pressed forward, moving up behind me and forcing me closer to the pen. Inside the dogs snarled and barked, snapping at the metal as they tried to get to me. I pressed back against him, but he was too strong, and I was too sick and terrified to put up much resistance.

"Chenchen, taught them well, I'll give him that." He continued, "They don't go for the throat unless they have to. It's really quite impressive. They just tear you apart, eat you while you're still screaming." He chuckled, "It makes one hell of a mess."

"A-are you saying…" I swallowed, trembling against his chest and trying to plant my feet so that he could push me any closer to the dogs, "are you going to feed me to…" I couldn't even finish the question, and again bile rose in my throat, threatening to overtake me.

"I can't do that." He laughed, finally stepping back enough to let me stumble away from the cage. "They just ate, Harley, there's no way they have room for you too."

My mouth fell open, bobbing as I tried to respond, but couldn't put the words together. Jesus, what had I been thinking? I'd wanted to save this man from execution! I'd told myself he was disturbed, that he was dangerous, but deep down I'd wanted to believe I could save him. I'd let fluffy dreams of curing him cloud the fact that he was still a threat.

Satisfied with my complete horror, the Joker smile and stepped toward me, reaching to take my wrist again, but I jerked away. He only laughed at this, and shook his head. "Calm down. I haven't done anything to you yet."

_Yet._

I repeated in my head and my hand went into the pocket of my lab coat, my fist closing tightly around the handle of whatever weapon I'd found in his room."_Don't touch me_." I hissed.

The clown paused, titling his head at me, and laughed again in disbelief. "Or you'll _what_ Harleen?"

My jaw set as he stepped toward me, and his fingers closed around my arm. This time, however, I didn't wilt at his touch. I jerked the weapon from my pocket with a cry and brought it back down with all my might. The metal, which turned out to be a soldering iron, missed his vitals, but sank deep into his shoulder. His grip fell away and he stumbled back into the pen, gripping the wounded arm with a curse. Behind him, the dogs went crazy, growing louder as they attacked the fence, but the Joker's smile was gone now and he turned to glare at them briefly.

"**Back off**." His deep, demonic bellow seemed to silence the room and the dogs ducked down with pitiful whines. I stumbled away from him as well, startled by the intensity of his tone, something I'd only ever heard once in a news clip. Then it had sent a shiver down my spine, even through the television. Now, I felt ice settle in my veins, and my heart pounded painfully against my chest. I watched, frozen in shock and fear, as he grabbed the handle of the iron and with a soft grunt, jerked it out of his shoulder. Blood bloomed from the small hole and trailed down his shirt, soaking into the strangely printed material faster than I would have imagined. Then his black eyes lifted to me, and I forgot how to breathe.

The moment he shot forward, however, I jumped back, missing his reach by inches. He was slower than usual, but I didn't think that would last, not when his eyes promised I would feel every bit of the pain I'd caused him and more. I didn't wait to give him a second chance though and turned on my heel, dashing across the huge garage and around one of the vans parked inside.

"Harley." He called after me, irritated and threatening. His tone wasn't what I would have expected, not nearly as angry as I would have been. It was more of a warning, but I wasn't going to listen.

Back at the door a few thugs had come to investigate the Joker's snarl. They took one look at him and immediately went into a panic.

"Boss?" One called moving as if to help the clown. The joker shook his head pointing toward me.

"Shut the fucking doors." He growled and they scurried to obey.

Two of them rounded the van, cutting off my escape, but I wasn't going down without one hell of a fight. Hell I'd just stabbed the fucking Joker! My life was going to come to a horrifying and sticky end soon enough, so I'd make it last as long as I could.

I recognized the thug from inside when he pulled his knife and grinned at me. I backed away to the front of the black van, hand pressed against the passenger door. I could hear the echo of the mechanical door at the far end of the garage and my body tensed at the thought f losing my only exit. The thug took my fearful glance back as an in, and leapt toward me. I grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it with all I had, screaming as I did.

The thug slammed into the metal with a groan and crashed down onto the floor, but he buddy was close behind. When I turned to flee however, there was another one behind me. I shrieked and pivoted on the spot, planting my hands on the hood of the van and vaulting onto the metal. I leapt off the other side, landing in a couch and popped back onto my feet into a dead run.

_Ok, dad. Maybe gymnastics wasn't such a bad idea._

I could hear them yelling, but I wasn't sure where they were all coming from. The sounds bounced around the garage, and the excitement had riled the dogs again into a fit of barks and howls. I told myself to ignore it though and instead pushed on.

Thanks to my frequent gym trips with Pam, I was still in decent enough shape to keep my pace, but I wasn't sure how long that would last. I was a weight and elliptical girl, not a runner, eventually my stamina would reach its limit and at the pace I was going, that would be soon.

Someone ran at me from the side, a rusted pipe in his hands. Thanks to his yell, I managed to dodge him, spinning around him like a damned ballerina and shoving his to the ground before I took off again. I could see the door at the end of the garage. It was closing, nearly shut completely, but I could make it. I _had_ to.

With the last of my strength, I barreled forward, pushing myself until it hurt. The door was only a couple feet off the ground now and with a cry I flung myself forward, diving like a baseball player taking home plate. Unfortunately, the slide didn't work the way I'd expected. I skidded to a stop with only my top half outside. The sensor on the door beeped as it closed down around my ribs, but then it rattled to a halt and slowly switched its gears into reverse. Despite how cool it had looked in Scream, generally garages were built to stop when they met resistance, they didn't crush, and they never lifted women up to their doom like the bubble -headed Rose Mcgowan.

I grabbed the slowly rising metal and began to pull myself through when I noticed a woman standing across the dimly lit street. She stared at me with wide glassy eyes, clutching a damp paper bag to her chest like a life preserver.

"Help me!" I screamed to her, but with a string of unintelligible words, she shook her head and hurried off down the street.

While this city was defiantly rotten, The Narrows at its center was where the infection had begun. It housed the worst Gotham had to offer, and I knew that we had to be in the heart of it. Nowhere else were the people _that_ scared.

My thoughts were replaced by my screams when someone grabbed my ankle and began to drag me back through the door. I kicked as wildly as I could, thankful for my strong legs and pleased by the grunt of pain when I connected with the bastard who had me. They didn't stop however, and I rolled onto my stomach, clawing at the concrete and finding nothing to grab.

As the empty street outside receded, I rolled onto my back again, knowing I had to fight if I wanted to get away. This thought was momentarily forgotten when it was the painted and terrifying face of the Joker that met mine on the inside. He stared down at me, shirt sleeve soaked in blood and dripping down his fingertips onto me. He wasn't smiling, and when I saw that he was holding the soldering iron in his bloody hand, my heart nearly stopped.

I kicked at him again, not giving him a chance to stab me, but the clown only growled, trapping my legs beneath his and climbing on top of me. I screamed again, not caring that voice was going horse and swung at him. He dodged it, slapping my hand to the side, but I recovered quickly and went for the only weakness he had.

My finger sank into the hole in his shoulder and I dug with all I could muster. Blood pooled around my finger before oozing down my hand. The Joker hissed in pain, grabbing my wrist and pinning it above me. Before I could use the other, he'd pinned it too, nearly stabbing me with the iron. I thrashed beneath him, screaming and sobbing and cursing for all the good it did me, until finally, he released my arms to grab my head and slam it down into the concrete.

The world slipped out of focus for a moment, and I was swimming in cold darkness. When I came back, he'd tossed the iron across the floor and was gathering my wrists together. He pinned them above my head again and settled down above me to hold me still. The garage door groaned behind me before closing and with it went my fire.

One of the thugs hurried around us, locking the door in place and then standing back to stare down at me in shock. Apparently he wasn't used to seeing his boss bleed, or captives who attacked him. Now that I was pinned, the Joker seemed to regain his humor. His grin spread slowly and he glanced up at the thug.

"Hold her hands." He said simply, and the guy immediately fell to his knees and did so.

"Let go of me you son of a bitch!" I cried, "Get off or I'll-" The words were cut short when the Joker sat up and backhanded me. My head snapped to the side with a yelp at the feel of his knuckles and I turned back to stare at him in shock. It wasn't the pain, so much as the fact that he'd hit me that caused my stunned silence.

"Shut your mouth." He said evenly, though he was still smiling. Once it was clear I'd listen, he turned his attention on his bleeding arm, working his shoulder with a slight wince. He laughed, shaking his head and loosening his tie to pull it free from his shirt.

"_Tha-at _was unexpected, Doc." He began, motioning for the thug to hold tighter as he moved to the side and flipped me onto my stomach. I began to struggle again, but he sat back onto top of me with a giggle. "I really didn't know you had it _in_ you, Harls. Can't say I'm not impressed."

I waved away the thug and took my arms, bending them up behind my back and pinning them there with one hand. With the other, he wound the tie around my forearms, tying them together with painful tugs until I couldn't do much but wriggle beneath him. When I was secured, the Joker chuckled again, planting his hands on either side of my head and leaning down over me.

"Can't say it was a particularly _smart _move," he grabbed my hair and forced my head to the side to look down into my wide eyes. "But baby, you sure as hell got my _attention_."

I whimpered beneath him and closed my eyes, happy to hide in my wild blond hair when he released it. My head was pounding again, and I could feel the warm drip of his blood falling through the strands and onto my face.

With another short laugh, the Joker stood, grabbing me under the arms to drag me onto my feet. He was stronger than would have imagined, and no matter how many times he proved it I would never get used to it. I tried to keep my head down when he turned me to face him, but he grabbed my chin to search my eyes.

"You know how this works. You act up, especially on your first day, and you get sent to a quiet room."

"Stop treating me like a-"

I yelped when he rushed forward, forcing me back against the garage door and slamming his palm down beside my head with a resounding crash.

"_Do not _backtalk me, Harleen." He said it very calmly, but somehow it was worse than when he yelled. I closed my mouth tightly, watching him nervously until he smiled again. "Good girl."

He patted my cheek then grabbed my upper arm, walking us back through the garage and toward the factory door. Each step seemed like the drum roll of my execution as it echoed throughout the room. The men were murmuring again, and followed us back into the room.

Once inside, we were met with more stares, and men jumping from their seats. They saw the Joker's blood-soaked sleeve and couldn't hide the shock on their faces.

"Shit, Boss._ She_ do that to you?" one of them asked.

"It's just a flesh wound." He grinned, speaking in a faux British voice. The thug either hadn't seen Monty Python, or was too shocked to laugh.

"Whachu gunna do to her?" he pressed. I wanted to know the same thing.

The Joker paused, looking back at me in a way I couldn't translate, "You know, Grady,"

"Andrew."

"_Percy_, I'm not so sure anymore."

Andrew looked between us, brows raised. "You ain't even gunna even the score?"

The clown cocked his head at the guy, starring him down until the thug visibly deflated.

"Why?" he asked, "You think I should _stab_ her back?"

"W-well, not if you…I just thought-"

The Joker tsk'ed, shaking his head and patting the thug on the shoulder. "Oh, Francis, Stick to what you're good at."

Were he any other man, I might have questioned his patronizing comment, but it was clear from the silence and the way the thug simply nodded, that no one here was willing, or even wanted to question the clown. They were terrified of him which only put me further from ease. If his own men tip toed around him, where the hell did that leave me? The captive? By their reactions, it was clear that my being unharmed (for the most part), not to mention _alive_, was unheard of. What's more, this man had been incarcerated for quite a long time, and still commanded such authority and fear that it was overwhelming.

I was so completely screwed.

The Joker began moving again, and I was dragged away from the thugs, much to my dismay. Not that I would rather their company. I just didn't want to be alone with the Joker. Funny, how that had changed so quickly. Only a day ago, that was the one thing I _did _want.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, trying to distract myself from those thoughts. Not that these would be any better, just different.

"To my torture chamber." He replied smoothly, not looking back at me. In my shook, I went still, jerking him to a halt and starring at him wide-eyed. My god, he said it so calmly, like we were discussing the weather! He turned, taking in my expression and laughed.

"I'm kidding, Pooh." He took my chin and shook it gently, grinning. "You're so _nervous_."

Then he was walking again, dragging me behind him. "You're going to time out, Harley, so you can think about what you've done."

"And plan out how to do it better next time." I muttered

He stopped in the hall, and looked me down a long, intense moment, before opening the door to his right and grabbing the front of my blouse. I sucked in a startled gasp, but held my tongue, deciding it might be a good idea to continue to do so if I could help it.

"You've got a mouth on you." He said slowly, walking me backwards into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. "Now, I _like_ a woman with backbone." I grunted when he shoved me back against the wall, his black eyes boring into mine. "It's no fun when they just _lie_ there and **take** i**t**. But perhaps," He titled his head, smile falling slowly with each word, "In light of the circumstances, you should keep that mouth of your _shu_**t**." He grabbed my jaw holding my face up to search my eyes, "Or I'll make sure you never use it again."

Fear slithered down into my gut with its countless brothers and I glared back at him. "If you're going to kill me, do it. I'm not going to play your fucking games."

He stared at me a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter. "Games?" he cackled manically, "Harley, you're sadly lacking in imagination. I didn't say I would _kill _you." He titled up my chin, leaning in close until I could feel the warm dampness of his breath in my skin. My eyes skipped between his own and his mouth. Not that I thought he was going to kiss me, he was just so close, our positions so strange.

"I could think of a _thousand_ other things I'd rather do than **kill **you, Harley-baby. Wouldn't want to end things so soon," he smiled, and his thumb traced the tender spot on my jaw where he'd hit me, making me wince. "Not when things are just starting to get _interesting_."

I didn't respond, lesson learned…at least for now.

The Joker held me in place a long moment, then chuckled softly to himself and pulled away. He moved to the door, leaving me in the dark and turned back as he was shutting the door.

"Now you sit in here, and think about what you did wrong. Daddy's gunna have a nice chat with the boys. And if you need anything," he paused, glancing out of the corners of his eyes and back with a wide grin. "Just scream."

The door slammed, and with that, I was in another black room. This time there was no trying to escape. I let myself slide down the wall imagining the million "I told you so"s that awaited me in the outside world. Assuming of course, I ever saw it again.

* * *

**I've been having trouble lately writing any of my other stories besides The Breath of Lies (ugh…stupid fucking title) And then there's the lack of Joker inspiration out there anymore. I mean a girl can only go so long on repeats. Even the Joker blogs don't have the kick they used to. –le sigh- HOWEVER, I enjoy this story, and have wanted to write something like this for a long time, so I'm committed.**

**I started writing this chapter telling myself that I had to do it, or I never would, I didn't think I'd make it to 1000 words, and then it just kept going and I had to stop myself before it got to 5000. Soooooo, enjoy and leave me some feedback. At this point I need to know that you guys actually care to see this finished anymore. Otherwise, I'm going back to Daniel gettin' his torture on like a biggaty-badass…with bouts of my own personal Joker fics on the side.**

**Ugh I want the next movie to come out already, so ppl will remember how much they miss him and start writing again. On the other hand Catwoman and fucking BANE? WTF? Who decided Bane was interesting enough to be a main villian, because they deserved –**_**expletive deleted**_**- in their –**_**expletive deleted**_**- bitch-ass-bitches. I was all excited to get my Nigma on, and now no Eddy-The Riddler-Nashton. –le sigh- what's this world coming to when **_**Bane**_** is the main villain in a batman movie. He might be a badass, latinoish, back-snapping fool in the comics…but **_**come on**_** Hollywood. Give me someone I can lust over that isn't a ploy to stop roid-ragers. Ugh. A villain with a brain bigger than a peanut would be swell…like say, I don't know, Edward-fucking-Nashton!**


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